Art
by pompomwoop
Summary: AU from chapter 362 onwards. Wanted dead by Akatsuki and the world at large, all Deidara and Orochimaru had left were each other. It was an art form - the art of surviving. Together, it was them against the world. DeiOro/OroDei. Yaoi. On-going.
1. Prologue

**A/N: **Helloooo~

So, I was on the train listening to Deidara's theme (because epic soundtracks should be played during profound moments of our lives) and I thought about what would have happened if Orochimaru managed to pop out prior to the Uchiha showdown. And then this came to me.

**Rated M for: **swearing and future mature content.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Naruto.

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Prologue

* * *

Deidara was fucking pissed. He hated everything. The deep cuts marring his forearms stung like a bitch, sending waves of flaring pain surging through his body from even the most infinitesimal of movements. The ground, fissured by the weight of his descent from the sky, was uncomfortable underneath his ass. Tobi, useless pandering idiot he was, had ditched him. His art had exploded without the bang he envisioned. It seemed like everything had truly gone to shit.

Most of all, he hated the bastard who was responsible.

Uchiha Sasuke.

Even now, with both of them out of chakra, the man in question played it _so_ cool that the sheer indifference made a mockery of everything he stood for. Deidara had spent the last minute yelling obscenities that were verbal explosions, rage fuelling his snarls across the short distance between them like his explosive art – bursting with vibrancy, with pure passion.

Still, Sasuke didn't give a flying fuck.

"I could care less about all of that," Sasuke interjected sharply, reducing the identity of Deidara's art to a single encompassing word. "Now, tell me where Itachi is."

As if the dismissal wasn't enough of a veiled insult, Sasuke then deactivated his Sharingan, the perfection of crimson art receding. All that remained was the cold, dispassionate black of his eyes that were unblinking, speaking volumes of his relative calmness in spite of the situation and what had just transpired. It was arrogant, but more than it was a stark contrast to the seething artist sprawled on the ground opposite him.

It was a slap to Deidara's face.

With an enraged snarl, Deidara raised his right hand to grip the collar of his mesh shirt, ignoring the spasms of pain clamouring for him to stop. A sharp jerk of his wrist had his shirt tearing at the seams, emitting a rip that sounded almost violent however it was nothing compared to what he was feeling inside. His emotions were a seething volcano triggered by what he saw in Sasuke's eyes, and what he deciphered hurled him off his precarious position teetering near the edge.

Nothing.

The bastard didn't bat an eyelash. Even when he ripped his shirt off, revealing the monstrosity on his chest, Sasuke refused to acknowledge him. All he saw was a flicker of emotion in Sasuke's eyes but it wasn't enough – if anything, he was mildly annoyed. It wasn't what he wanted. He wanted Sasuke to show his fear, to drown himself in the awe and despair. He wanted Sasuke to cry like a lost child because–

Deidara never got the chance to articulate his wild thoughts for Sasuke blitzed him. One second, Sasuke was crouched a short distance away – the next second, he was leaping through the air using deadly speed, closing the short distance between them in a flash. It took every fibre Deidara possessed not to yowl in pain as Sasuke punched him in the face for the second time with such mustered strength that had him flying into the tree.

If the impact of the punch was hard, the protruding branch that stuck him like a pig was even worse, tearing through his stomach. Sharp and pointed, made deadlier by the jaggedness of the withering bark flaring outwards, the branch pierced through precious skin, flesh and organs, causing blood to spurt out and flow in scarlet streams.

This was it – he was goner. Numbly, the fatalistic thought crossed Deidara's mind and he smiled bitterly, even as rivulets of blood trickled from the corner of his lips.

Somehow, someway, he managed to focus his gaze ahead him, honing in on Sasuke. The bastard was walking towards him slowly, breathing shallowly from the speed he had exerted. His gait was unhurried, somewhat staggered, but it was the barest hint of a smirk that shook Deidara from his dying stupor as whatever pride he had left finally cracked.

The fine line between artistry and insanity was crossed as Deidara forced his body to move, crying out from the strain as he lifted his left arm. He relished in the way Sasuke's eyes widened fractionally when he brutally ripped the restraints of the mouth on his chest. By the time Sasuke reached him, tumbling forward in a dirty heap, hands outstretched, it was too late.

* * *

Orochimaru was screaming.

Inside Sasuke's consciousness, he could barely register the hoarseness of his voice – too great was his need to stop Sasuke from whatever the hell he was doing. This Deidara character was unhinged – that much was obvious, judging by how he was fading out of existence. It was unsettling at how he was becoming transparent, becoming one with his surroundings. The only thing that indicated he was still there, torn between the void of life and death, were the black meridians connected to his heart fanning out like inky veins.

And yet, no matter how much he yelled at his former student, screaming at him to flee, his words of warning fell on deaf ears.

It had never been more apparent now, as Sasuke wrapped his hands around Deidara's transparent neck in an attempt to strangle the very life out of him, that his former student disrespected him. The need for self-preservation was outweighed by his impulsiveness to act as he saw fit, ignoring Orochimaru every step of the way. All he could do was watch in horror as Sasuke dropped his hands to the only visible part of Deidara left – the man's black heart.

Suddenly, the mental barriers confining him began to fade, a low humming sounding in the vicinity of Sasuke's mind as if something had been shut down. The walls flickered, becoming dull, hollow – enough for him to reach out and grasp a strong life force. Orochimaru did more than simply walk outside the prison – he fell through, going beyond the control that his former student had used to keep him at bay.

An unseen force grabbed him by the hand, invisible fingers tightening, anchoring him to reality. He had initially thought he was falling, but now, feeling his spirit being pulled from the prison when Sasuke absorbed him, it was clear he was not. It suddenly dawned on him that he had no idea what was happening, nor did he understand why it had occurred from the notion of Sasuke touching Deidara's heart with the intent of killing him, and with that uncertainty – the startling lack of knowledge – a horrible feeling churned in his gut.

Something was not right.

Sasuke still had chakra left; meagre as it was, he still had enough to dish out something. Orochimaru had watched everything from the moment Sasuke had reversed his _Fushi Tensei_, absorbing him instead such that they were together in spirit. The only way to free himself was to wait for Sasuke to expend more chakra than he could – a moment he had thought would come to day during his inevitable clash with Itachi.

Orochimaru was shaken from his thoughts as he tasted fresh air for the first time in what seemed like years. Contrary to what he expected, the first breath of fresh air was anything but glorious. He found himself choking, finding it utterly difficult to simply breathe. As he struggled on the ground, one hand clawing at the dirt while the other clutched his windpipe, he began to piece some bits of the unknown together.

Since he had exited Sasuke's body without using _Yamata no Jutsu _as an intermediary, he was not quite physically there in reality. It was apparent in the way he found it ridiculously hard to breath. The most basic of human bodily function was to breathe, and as he could not, he suddenly understood. Only his sheer willpower kept him bound to reality out of fear of becoming nonexistent. What he could not understand, however, was the splitting pain at his stomach. It felt as if...

It felt like he was dying.

Wincing involuntarily, Orochimaru raised his head, searching for Deidara whom he knew had been impaled by a tree. He could have sworn Deidara was about to commit suicide in the name of his art but such had not been the case. It took everything in him to will his ethereal body to move, inching towards the dying artist, even as the malicious part of him hissed to let him die. His hand shook as he neared Deidara, ignoring the pool of blood staining his palms as he grasped the blonde's leg.

The worst thing was that he needed a body – a host in order to stay in the realm of the living yet he couldn't take over Deidara, nor Sasuke who was nowhere to be seen. He could take over Deidara's body, certainly, but the uncertainty was threaded with the unknown. It seemed that they were connected although he had no idea how, much less why. One thing was apparent, though – he had to do the inconceivable.

He had to save a life.


	2. Bleeding

**A/N:** I was delighted to discover that Deidara is blood type AB (the same as Kabuto who integrated Orochimaru's DNA to gain the Power of the White Snake) meaning that this is at least somewhat plausible – not just suspension of disbelief at work! I suggest listening to Deidara's theme for this chapter.

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Chapter One – Bleeding

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It was one of those days. The sun was at its brightest, threatening to burn everything its scorching rays touched as it shone over the quaint little village. The only respite was inside, adequately shielded from the sun, yet even then there was still an annoying connection to the heat. This was evident when the door to the inn was flung open, the force behind it all sending a whirlwind of humidity into the building that all but engulfed the owner seated at reception.

Sighing at the disturbance, the middle-aged man shifted in his uncomfortable seat as he cleared his throat. "Good afternoon, welcome to our establishment," he recited in a droning tone of voice, absently fanning his flushed, sweaty skin. He paused in the midst of perusing the daily newspaper as he lifted his head. "How can I help you?"

The owner helped by dying in a matter of seconds.

Orochimaru didn't even bother to spare the man a backwards glance after he had hurled the delicate vase near the door. He headed beeline for the stairs, eating them up with his long legs two at a time. The crunch of pottery colliding with skin confirmed his accuracy, but it was the heavy thud of a dropping body confirmed that his accuracy had been spot on – deadly and fatally so.

Under normal circumstances, he would not have even bothered using the front door – he simply would have jumped through the window, took what he wanted, then disappeared as nothing but a mere shadow, leaving everything untouched. Ignorance was bliss; let civilians live in their happy little bubble, separated from shinobi. In the end, it made everything all the more sweeter when that bubble was popped, and then reality reared its ugly face.

As it were, the situation was anything but ordinary. There was nothing normal in how he had a bleeding body in his arms, nor was the face of his recently acquired body anything to smile at. His _Vanishing Facial Copy Jutsu_ was only half complete, given the pressing matter at hand, so the skin clung to his face like rotting skin. It served to both intimidate anyone who was foolish enough to look at him twice and remind him of just how little time he had.

Orochimaru rounded the corner of the entrance to the second floor. Spotting the first door to the right, he stilled briefly, pausing to adjust Deidara in his arms so that the blonde's condition would not exacerbate before tightening his hold. All it took was a swift kick for the door to splinter, falling down in a battered, wooden heap. Acquiring a body had strengthened his life force somewhat, but only just.

He was still dying.

The very thought was dancing before his eyes as he stepped over the threshold, entering the room swiftly. With a certain tentativeness he hadn't exerted in years, utter care guiding his every moment, Orochimaru deposited Deidara on the bed. As he took a backwards step, he was momentarily struck at the oddity of the scene before him – how disturbingly familiar yet unfamiliar it was.

Laid before him was a body – dying, on the verge of being killed. It was the scenario he had reenacted over and over with his experiments, using them as mere tools to further his research on the human body. Already, there was blood; so much of that metallic smelling essence of life had spilled, pooling around the body to signal that their relevance was coming to an end.

What was startlingly different was how the scene before him was not a matter of research but life and death – _his_ life and death. Instead of a cold, steel workbench, there was a soft bed; the body on it was not so much an expendable tool but an actual person that was inexplicably tied to him. The blood staining the bedsheets was precious, even as it smelled so strongly of a failed experiment.

If he had it his way, that would not be the outcome.

Gritting his teeth, Orochimaru shook the eerie image away, willing the present to the forefront of his mind. Decision made, he raced to the bathroom, kicking the door open without care that it protested on its hinges as it slammed against the wall. It took a good ten seconds to find the first aid kit. When he finally found it, he grabbed the white box and returned to the bedroom, cursing under his breath all the while.

His every moment screamed frustration and repressed anger which was so at odds with his characteristic elegance, and yet, when he reached Deidara, his hand suddenly became steady, careful.

Of course he had to be careful – this was his life on the line, not just Deidara's!

Orochimaru crushed the rising panic welling up in his chest. Closing his eyes to quickly maintain his composure, he inhaled deeply, silently chastising his wild thoughts. He was not an irrational man by nature, so it was not becoming of him to despair. The thought rang incessantly in his head like a mantra as he opened his eyes to take in Deidara's condition.

Within seconds, he was back in control, his professionalism having firmly taken over.

The wound was fairly wide, spanning the expanse of Deidara's abdomen, so he needed to change the radius of his healing capabilities. He had made the judgement call to sever the branch connected to the tree to prevent further blood loss at the expense of travelling. In order to heal Deidara, he needed to remove the branch and therein was the problem. Removing it meant potentially rupturing the wound further, causing increased blood loss, but it was necessary.

Orochimaru lowered his left hand to grasp the ends of the branch. It was drenched in blood, the coppery essence sticking to his fingers. He closed his eyes again, making the appropriate hand seal to gather green chakra to his right hand. When nothing whatsoever happened, the briefest twinges of panic shot through him but he shot it down quickly and tried again.

Time seemed to tick faster with each passing second as he tried again and again only to dismally fail. The world – the room itself – seemed to close in on him, suffocating him, laughing at him with his continuous failures. The confidence that had previously empowered him fractured, cracks forming to make way for seeping despair and, at the heart of it all, of everything, was Hiruzen's face.

His complexion was pale as it should be – as it had always been ever since birth – but when Orochimaru raised his hands, the only thing he saw was dull, dark skin. The skin might as well have been black like the world around him.

As the world began to fade away, Orochimaru gazed at the dying artist on the bed. There was so much blood. Numbly, he reached for the young man's hand dangling lifelessly from the edge of the mattress. How cold his hand was, how limp it seemed. One of those fascinatingly odd hand mouths licked his palm. It was a weak response, a mere glide of a moist tongue, and then it was still, slowly yet surely losing its warmth as the very life of its master ebbed away.

The despair began to dissipate, replaced with frustration, firing hotly inside his stomach until it was all he could do not to lash out like the vicious snake he was known to be. If only he could somehow share his strength, his very life force with Deidara. Such fatal, physical wounds would otherwise be superficial for someone like him. The irony that he was going to die by it through association stung.

It always came back to the forlorn thought. If only...if only he could give Deidara that which made him so superior.

There was one way but it was dangerous. Just to think about it was ludicrous and out of the question. Transfusions required compatibility and he didn't have the faintest knowledge of Deidara's genetics.

But then they were both going to die, right? Yes, they were, he acknowledged with a bitter twist of his lips. What did he have left to lose that he hadn't already lost?

Orochimaru didn't know why he did it. Maybe it was the dread of dying without uncovering the meaning of life, or the blood in stark contrast to his pale skin, burning him like toxic paint, or the hopelessness spurring him to do something – _anything_. All that really mattered was that he did it, making an incision on his hand using the blade in the first aid kit so that he, too, could bleed.

The blade was discarded, forgotten. Orochimaru tossed it to the side as he tentatively reached for Deidara and touched what was killing them.

Together, they bled.

* * *

**A/N:** Manga chapter 593 sheds light on Orochimaru's sealed jutsu. Part of his soul (arms) was sealed. _Fushi Tensei_ transfers his soul to another body. The jutsu he's used thus far after his fight with Hiruzen didn't require hand seals ie. _Kuchiyose: Sanjū Rashōmon _and his body modifications.


	3. Explosive

**A/N:** Deidara ranted about wanting to kill Orochimaru when, in actuality (well, as far as we know) they've never met. I've jumped to my own conclusion on his motive to kill.

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Chapter Two – Explosive

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The world was spinning, alternating in blurring in and out of focus, completely and utterly mind-fucking him. It took Deidara a while to concentrate with the throbbing pain at his midsection but when he did, snapping his eyes open, he immediately wished he hadn't. He might not have died but what he saw was damn close to it.

Death's skin was as pale as snow itself in stark contrast to the ebony wisps of hair framed like a sleek curtain. Cheekbones were high, very much so, slanted on a face that appeared narrower as it angled downwards. Purple markings sloped around the straight bridge of a nose that was both strange and artistic in its intricacy. Eyes of gold were slitted, narrowed in fixation as they locked onto his body.

Suddenly, those serpentine eyes flickered to lock onto his own. Amber eyes widened fractionally, mirroring the silvery blue ones staring back in shock, before compressing.

"You are awake."

Deidara was struck by how low the voice was, how androgynous it sounded, fluttering to his ears. He went to reply with a scathing, "No shit!" but words failed him, abruptly dying in his throat.

"Remain still."

In emphasis, a pale hand was placed flat against the skin near his shoulder. The splayed hand wasn't rough by any means, merely firm. All things considered, it was actually quite gentle if Deidara were to describe how it felt against his bare skin – if he hadn't freaked out by the sight of blood dripping from said hand, the fact that he was half-naked, and the identity of just who was looming over him.

"You!" Deidara viciously whacked the hand away from him as he scrambled off the bed. Seeing as it would have taken too long to mould clay into explosives, he settled for jabbing his finger in the air, his hand shaking with the force of pent-up emotion. "You stay the fuck away from me!"

His next string of profanities were drowned by a deep grunt of pain as he sorely miscalculated everything – the extent of his injuries, the placement of the bedside table, and the slipperiness of blood. In a messy, pathetic heap, Deidara tumbled off the side of the bed, hitting the floor. The fall was rough, jarring his injury further as it stretched so painfully he might as well have died then and there.

Deidara was in the process of removing his leg lodged between the bedside table and the bed when Orochimaru loomed over him. Towering over his crumpled form, the man was a malevolent shadow, casting darkness over everything he stared down at.

"Are you going to be difficult, Deidara-kun?" Orochimaru asked flatly, sounding supremely unconcerned about the matter. The fury incensing Deidara's face said it all. For a split-second, he was startled at the open display of emotion; if he was not mistaken – which was usually the case – he would have thought that Deidara hated him even though they had never met.

The possibility rang in his mind as he moved forward, intending to help Deidara to his feet. Foremost, they needed to properly address the wound which was still bleeding profusely. The transfusion had worked somewhat, the power of the white snake coursing through his body such that he was able to regain consciousness, but it was not enough – the meticulous process of proper medical treatment was still required.

His suspicions regarding Deidara's hostility were quickly confirmed – rather violently, at that. The drawers of the bedside table were hurled his way. One after the other – Orochimaru surprised at the sheer killing intent fueling the attacks – they were yanked from the table, flying through the air. Naturally, given the straightforwardness of the barrage, and his snakelike reflexes, they never reached their target. He merely twisted his body to the side, allowing the objects to sail past him to splinter against the wall.

The only indication of attempted murder were the few strands of dark hair out of place. If anything, the relatively unscathed appearance infuriated Deidara further. It reminded him so strongly of Sasuke disregarding him. No wonder the bastard had sought Orochimaru out – they were practically one in the same. Even their gaits were similar, he thought venomously, silently noting the manner in which Orochimaru walked towards him.

As the man neared him, visibly unfazed by his attack, Deidara felt like he was revisiting what should have been his last moments. He might as well have been staring into Sasuke's face, as sort of some twisted joke to further ridicule his art. Much to his shock, nothing of the sort happened – in fact, the exact opposite. Where Sasuke had tried to kill him, Orochimaru instead helped him; the hands were gentle like before even though he would never admit it.

Deidara found himself slowly pulled to his feet – the speed so carefully set, so slow, that it eased not only the stress at his stomach but also some of the volatility boiling inside him. That same anger simmered when he was abruptly released, unscathed and left standing, as Orochimaru moved away.

As though reading his thoughts, Orochimaru paused on his way to the bathroom. "I'm not going to carry you. We both know you would not allow it."

It was true. Deidara would have kicked up another fuss, hollering as if his life depended on it, wholly unwilling to be carried around like an invalid. Sure enough, Orochimaru seemed to not only guess this but respect his decision. Finding no rebuke, he merely crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the retreating man, all the while wondering just what the hell had happened.

The actuality that he was alive was stunningly obvious but the reason as to _why _was not. The answer was shrouded in mystery, in the form of the Sannin in the adjoining bathroom, and by that extension alone the situation was more convoluted. Orochimaru was supposed to be dead. Scratch that, _ they_ were supposed to be dead, ironically both at the hands of Sasuke. The only difference was that he went out in a bang.

Only he had not. The fact that was very much alive, breathing and in pain was testimony to how he had failed to become the explosive personification of his art. He uncrossed his arms to stare at his hands as he thought of his art's fallibility. It had technically failed against Sasuke, the bastard reading his earth element like a book, but that was beside the point.

Art wasn't about the technicalities, nor was it about aesthetics – even though he felt his rendition of it was damn pleasing to the eyes. It was purely about the feeling of it, and whenever his creations exploded, something inside him would too. His C0 should have elevated him to be the masterpiece of his repertoire, embodying it – _becoming_ it, going out in a wondrous bang.

So why hadn't it worked?

The answer eluded him, and in doing so, furious fire was rekindled. Deidara threw his hands up in the air in frustration, automatically wincing as the movement disturbed his wound. For the first time, he stared down at the branch piercing his stomach – really and actually looked at it, coming to terms that the blood in the room had come from him. He really wished he hadn't though, as more questions rushed to his head, screaming at him so incessantly it was maddening.

Orochimaru, it seemed, possessed some of the answers he so desperately sought. It was written all over his face, his body, conveyed through his agitated – somewhat restless – movements. Deidara watched him exit the bathroom suspiciously, his anger replaced with scrutiny, his eyes lingering on the congealed blood staining Orochimaru's clothes.

"What did you do to me?" Deidara demanded without preamble. His voice was harsh, cutting – as though he had every right to interrogate, emphasised by how he stepped forward, which he damn well did.

Orochimaru regarded him coolly. "I would have thought it was obvious. I saved your life."

"Cut the crap, Orochimaru," Deidara growled menacingly, taking another intimidating step. "You fucking did something. I want to know what and I want to know _now_."

Had Orochimaru been a lesser man, he would have quivered at Deidara's rapidly darkening presence – perhaps even ran for dear life at the underlying threat. As it were, he was anything but, and so he remained outwardly calm despite the inner seething malice festering within, itching to manifest in the form of wrapping his hands around the blonde's neck to give a _good_ squeeze.

It was a testimony to not only his extreme self-control harnessed by Root but also the need for self-preservation. Inexplicably, he was tied to this artist – the very same man who was threatening him at the expense of wanting answers. As such, he needed to tread very carefully around Deidara. So, with a sigh, Orochimaru acquiesced to Deidara's wishes.

"You were dying," he told the other man simply. "Sasuke-kun inflicted what would have been a fatal wound had I not intervened."

Deidara, who had not expected such brutal honesty, faltered slightly. "Intervened?" he repeated blankly, a faint crease furrowing at his eyebrows.

"When he attempted to kill you, something happened," Orochimaru continued smoothly. "It seems that my being here is connected with that."

"But how the hell-" Deidara broke off, his mind working furiously. It was his turn to be blunt when he looked Orochimaru in the eye and said, "You were killed."

Orochimaru twisted his lips at that, loathing the reminder of how Sasuke had so easily turned the tables of his _Fushi Tensei_. "No, I was not killed," he snapped back waspishly. The tone was biting, scornful, yet it didn't twist the truth. "Suffice to say that my jutsu was reversed. Sasuke-kun absorbed me."

"So the bastard didn't really kill you?" Deidara asked, feeling the urge to smile. It made sense, actually. At the beginning of his encounter with Sasuke, he had straight up told the bastard that he couldn't fathom at how he had managed to kill Orochimaru.

The very same thought was running through Orochimaru's mind. The sneer on his face turned into a smile, one that matched the glint in his eyes. "That is correct," he answered smoothly, arrogance threading in with the silkiness of his voice. "One does not simply kill me."

"You're so full of yourself, yeah."

"Mmm."

For a while, the two shared a comfortable sort of silence. It was odd, given what had transpired just minutes before, the remnants of attempted murder lying in wooden pieces near the wall, but in another sense it was logical. They had escaped death at Sasuke's hands, their very existences living proof of such a feat.

The moment did not last long, though – rather, Deidara interrupted it by grunting in pain.

"Shit," he swore under his breath, immediately dropping his hands to stomach.

Orochimaru was suddenly at his side in a flash. Within seconds, he was taking control of the situation, leading Deidara to the bed. He didn't say anything, merely motioned for the blonde to lie down, hovering to the side. He waited with barely concealed impatience as Deidara grumbled, damning the unfortunate situation with enough muttered curses for both their sakes as he lowered himself to the bed.

Once Deidara was ready, Orochimaru sank to his knees, assuming a position he knew all too well. It was rather sinister – the way his eyes hardened to turn cold, clinical; the way his fingers checked the temperature of Deidara's forehead, ghosting downwards to feel the pulse at his neck. He had to remind himself that this – Deidara – was not an experiment, even though it would have been oh-so easy to make him writhe and scream with the slightest bit of pressure. After all, he knew the human body well, rather _intimately_...

The power he wielded at his fingertips dangled temptingly before his very eyes as he assessed the wound, following the trickles of blood in morbid fascination. Smiling, Orochimaru slanted his gaze at Deidara. "I'm going to have to pull this out." Amber eyes glinted as they met blue. "It will hurt."

Deidara grunted again, this time pointedly rolling his eyes as he did so. "Just fucking do it," were his harsh words as he readied himself for what was to come. Without so much as a word, Orochimaru began to pull.

What started out as an acknowledged necessity soon degenerated into excruciating agony. It took every fibre Deidara had in his injured body not to cry out – to grab that damned white hand and crush it between his hands. He didn't know what he wanted more – for Orochimaru to stop, or to simply just wrench it out hard and fast so that he would be spared of the slow, torturous agony.

"I cannot stop," Orochimaru denied in response to his thoughts, as though reading his mind, "nor can I tug sharply. If I apply too much force, well...let's _not_, shall we?"

If Deidara wasn't mistaken, glaring at the Sannin through hazy eyelids, he would have thought Orochimaru was relishing in his pain. Bastard! What he actually said through gritted teeth was a scathing, "You're fucking enjoying this aren't you?"

The smirk curving the other man's lip told him everything.

Seething, Deidara clenched his hands into fists. He was on the verge of verbally abusing the other man when something prompted him to stop, catching his eye. He squinted through his pained vision to watch blue fire alight Orochimaru's hand that wasn't at his stomach. The chakra was channelled weakly at first, somewhat uncontrolled as it flared. Within seconds, before his very eyes, the blue fire strengthened, sharpening with power as it was skillfully moulded.

The hand was then placed at his stomach near his wound. Again, it was rather gentle – in fact it was quite warm, pulsating with comfortable heat as it crept towards his wound. "What are you doing?" Deidara questioned curiously.

"Healing you," Orochimaru replied curtly.

Deidara flattened his chin against his neck as best he could, trying to observe Orochimaru's hand. "That's not medical jutsu."

From what he knew off the top of his head, medical jutsu was green, its colour associated with healing properties much like nature.

Frowning, Deidara alternated between staring at Orochimaru's face, his wound, and the blue chakra. Just as the branch was pulled out slowly inch by inch, the same thing happened with his mind. Slowly yet surely, he began to make connections with the pieces of the puzzle. Orochimaru's expression, indeed, was a puzzle, showing clear signs of utmost concentration as though he was watching a particularly interesting thing unfold.

Another conundrum was the feeling at his stomach. True to the other man's words, he was being healed, however it was unconventional. Deidara could feel his insides squirming as his body knitted itself together – there was simply no other apt description in how, after each length of the branch was pulled out, his body would immediately converge as though prompted by a living force.

It was stupid to think that there was a higher power at work here, and yet, as he watched with his very own eyes his ripped skin repair at an alarmingly inhuman rate, the possibility seemed very close to reality.

No, it _was_ reality.

Deidara was off the bed as soon as the branch was removed, not even trusting himself to look at his injury. Shaking with volatility of his emotions, he grabbed the bloodied pouches on the bedside table containing his clay, all the while staring at the other man with wide eyes. He wanted to scream at Orochimaru, wanted to curse him into damnation – only the words never came out, for he was conflicted. The man had saved his life.

But at what cost? What of the thing of power _slithering_ inside him? What the fuck was he supposed to say?

One thing was certain – he needed to get out of here. There were many things he needed to do, like contacting Akatsuki, finding out if – how – Sasuke survived, and capturing Naruto. What he didn't need was this – Orochimaru and his shit – mind-fucking with him.

In a blur, Deidara dashed to the bathroom, averting his gaze to the ground as he passed by Orochimaru. His hands were frantic as he fumbled to turn the tap. The gushing water was cool against his burning skin, dripping down his half-naked body as he splashed it everywhere.

"Going somewhere are we," a voice drawled silkily, so damn smooth it was velvet, "Deidara-kun?"

Deidara continued to ignore the other man, even as he pivoted on his heel and barged out of the bathroom. Their shoulders touched briefly in the doorway, a slight brush of skin against clothing, but that was it. He half-expected the Sannin to say something, utter a nasty comment – perhaps even punch him just for being so offhanded – yet nothing happened.

The strangeness of it was mystifying, prompting more questions as he entered the bedroom. Again, Deidara found himself wanting to haul Orochimaru by the shoulders to shake him violently for answers. Like before, he did nothing of the sort, instead focussing on finding a shirt in the closet. The faster he found one, covering his chest and, by that extension, the mouth above his heart, concealing his kinjutsu, the faster he would be well on his way out to convening with Akatsuki.

Just as Deidara found one, his fingers bunching around the soft material, he froze. The plan formulated in his mind crumbled at the realisation that his Akatsuki ring had been taken. The silver band had been on his index finger for as long as he could remember, such that he was so accustomed to it he had forgotten it was even there. In light of what had happened, the ring had been the last thing on his mind. Now, it was the only thing besides cold fury.

Slowly, ever-so calculatingly, Deidara turned around, the shirt forgotten as he came to face the man who had saved his life. It suddenly made sense how Orochimaru hadn't even bothered to halt him because he knew. Orochimaru was an ex-member of Akatsuki, after all – the reason behind why _he_ had been recruited.

"Where is it?" Deidara asked quietly, the silvery blue of his eyes the calm before the storm.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Deidara-kun."

It was a blatant lie and they both knew it. Deidara wasn't so much infuriated by the lie itself, rather everything else. The lip-curling smirk, the way his name rolled off the other man's tongue, the inclination that he somehow owed Orochimaru for saving his life – it all blew up in an explosion.

Deidara was art itself as he moved using a speed he never thought he possessed, reaching Orochimaru in the blink of an eye. Whatever was inside him was truly a powerful force – he could literally feel it as adrenaline pumped through his veins, primal instinct guiding his every move. It wasn't just heightened speed that transformed his body into a work of art – the power extended to raw strength.

The punch that hit Orochimaru squarely in the face sent him crashing into the wall only he didn't stop there. With a thunderous bang, the mustered strength had his body breaking the wall itself until he fell through the bedroom into the bathroom. The only indication that Orochimaru was alive were the splutters echoing from the bathroom.

Ruthless as ever, Deidara leapt through the gaping whole, landing lightly on top of the rubble. The bathroom was decimated beyond repair, the plumbing having been broken as collateral damage, causing streams of water to flow and spray like a fountain. Even with the rubble, broken tiles and water it wasn't particularly hard to spot Orochimaru. He recognised that thick purple obi immediately – the only real splash of vibrancy in the otherwise blandly coloured bathroom.

Deidara was literally on the other man in an instant, straddling him so that all his weight crushed Orochimaru's legs. He wasn't one for physical contact – he always adopted a ranged fighting style – but he needed to be close for this. The Akatsuki ring was special so it was unlikely hidden somewhere in the room, and having stared at Orochimaru's hands during the removal of the branch, it was clear that he was not wearing it.

From what he had seen, Orochimaru was not an ordinary shinobi, therefore he didn't carry any supplementary pouches or additional bags. His theory turned out to be correct when he performed a quick search, running his hands along Orochimaru's spine down to his waist.

"Satisfied?" There was a pause, the lapse filled with rushing water and a chuckle. "Did you find what you were looking for, Deidara-kun?"

Deidara growled at the exaggerated roll of his name. He snapped his head downwards to glare at the other man, inconsiderately gripping him by the black collar of his shirt. "Fuck you, yeah," he snarled as he brought their faces within inches of each other. "Where is it? Don't make me beat the shit out of you."

Something snapped inside when Orochimaru merely laughed, the musical sound reverberating off the cracked walls of the bathroom. Keeping one hand at the collar, Deidara released the other to delve inside his clay pouch. When he revealed his hand after a few seconds, it was to show that he was deadly serious. The tiny white bird flapped its wings, flying a short distance until it landed on Orochimaru's wet forehead.

It was a threat in the small yet deadly form of C1. Deidara played to this, knowing Orochimaru had seen it before due to being absorbed as he leaned closer to murmur, "Do you think this is a game?"

The stretching smile, as well as the laughter, died a sad death, replaced with an intensity that made Deidara shiver. "No," Orochimaru answered quietly, something indecipherable lacing with the whisper of his voice, "I do not."

Deidara released a shaky breath when a distinct hissing filled the air – the very bathroom. Emerald snakes erupted from the sleeves of Orochimaru's shirt, slithering up his arm in a wholly unsettling, skin-crawling way. As he leapt backwards, ripping his arms free, he was quick to detonate his C1, however he wasn't fast enough, evident when Orochimaru emerged from the dense smoke unscathed.

"I do not know what nonsense Akatsuki has fed you concerning me," Orochimaru intoned lowly between the dissipating smoke, his malevolent presence emanating powerfully as he took a single step forward, "but it stops now. Do you understand?"

When Deidara released an onslaught of explosive creations his way, it was stunningly clear that he, in fact, did not.

Hissing in displeasure, Orochimaru was forced to flee the inn. At such close quarters, taking into account the fragility of the building in regards to Deidara's explosives, a fight would be disastrous. It was beside the point anyway – he could not kill Deidara even if he wanted to, for he would unfortunately be subjected to the same fate. He manoeuvred between flying explosives, reaching the window sill on the opposite side of the room. In a swish of black, his hair enveloping him like a living thing, as though expressing the malicious intentions he was unable to carry out, he was out the window just as C1 exploded.

"Oh no you don't, bastard! Get back here!"

Orochimaru whipped around in midair at the hollering voice behind him. Goodness, the artist was faster than he remembered, recalling the fight with Sasuke. Such devastating speed was made painfully obvious to him as Deidara pounced on him like a cat, clawing at his body with swiping, angry hands. In a tumble of flying fists, hisses, profanity, and pain, they hit the dusty street.

If the fall was rough, Orochimaru cursing the blonde's killing intent and surprising weight, the two high-pitched voices following it were even worse, making the situation more complicated than it already was.

"Holy crap, Orochimaru-sama!"

"Deidara?"

Orochimaru heard Deidara swear at the world in general that seemed to abhor their very existences. Grudgingly, he had to agree, if only silently as he peered through veils of dusty hair to stare at Karin and Sakura who were openly gaping at the sight of them.

* * *

**A/N: **Ends roughly at manga chapter 363.


	4. Unlocked

**A/N:** Just lobbing it out there, I'll admit that this is one of the oddest pairings but the idea of Orochimaru and Deidara clashing is intriguing. On one hand, Deidara is an artist; on the other, Orochimaru is a scientist. The bond between them is a mixture of art and science. It's an experiment of sorts for Orochimaru to see how this windmill will turn, so to speak, while Deidara just goes with the flow.

Furthermore, I've always wondered how Orochimaru's obsession with Sasuke would be perceived through someone's eyes not tinted by rose-coloured glasses. I'm sure there's quite a number of people who would view it as perverse, but to _openly_ say it _without_ being killed? Manga chapter 153 comes to mind when Orochimaru kills his subordinate in cold blood for reminding him to take his meds. Talk about stone cold, baby!

Anyway, enough of me – just thought I'd get that out. I hope you enjoy the chapter~

* * *

Chapter Three – Unlocked

* * *

"Holy crap, Orochimaru-sama!"

Sakura could only openly gape at the sight of the two people crashing down on the ground hard enough to form a small crater on impact. Wide-eyed, mouth agape, her slackened jaw might as well have dislocated, plummeted to the dusty ground and rolled over dead.

_Dead._

The very word echoed in her mind, ringing incessantly with the force of flooding memories – recently made ones. It had not been that long ago that she had been inside hokage tower speaking to Tsunade, Jiraiya and Naruto about the matter regarding Orochimaru – that the Sannin, who had baited Sasuke so temptingly with power, playing on his avenging spirit, had fallen at the hands of his apprentice.

Only he had not.

The living proof of that was right before her eyes, in the form of the body lying in the middle of the now deserted street. Sakura dimly registered villagers screaming in absolute terror, running for dear life at the deafening sound of the explosion. She was only peripherally aware that the inn had caught on fire as a result; so great was her shock at seeing Orochimaru's terrifyingly familiar face that she simply stood there.

This must be a cruel, terrible joke, she thought dazedly. The man was supposed to be dead, killed in an ironic twist of fate by his future vessel. There was no way that Orochimaru was alive and kicking – _literally_ so, driving his legs upwards into the person crushing him against the dusty ground. Curses broke the heavy silence in the air, and Sakura was unsurprised that they didn't come from Orochimaru.

Not once had she ever heard the Sannin swear in such a vulgar manner. In spite of all his evil, his wicked machinations – his very aura of darkness – Orochimaru was just not that type of person. She knew this well, having encountered Orochimaru several times – more than she would like to admit, much less be comfortable with – which left the profanity to the other person.

"Deidara?"

The Akatsuki member's named escaped her lips as soon as he snapped his head around to look at her. Pale blue eyes narrowed on her and she couldn't help but return the favour with equal heat – if not more fire. This was the man who had kidnapped Gaara, further making a mockery of him by using him as a makeshift couch, his immorality knowing no bounds when he taunted Naruto by slapping the then-deceased Kazekage.

It was all she could do not to act impulsively and punch either of them in the face.

* * *

Orochimaru smirked when his kick sent Deidara flying off him. The blonde was like a kitten. Underneath the pretty, pleasant exterior of a rounded face with striking blue eyes and hair like sunlight was a ferocious spirit – one that was quick to draw dangerous cat claws at perceived enemies. The evidence of that was the inn that was now burning, sending black fumes of smoke high into the air, as well as the torn skin of his _Vanishing Facial Copy Technique_ hanging from his face from said kitten claws.

The smirk playing at his lips flattened into a thin, straight line when his eyes came to rest on a familiar face.

"_So..._" The way in which Orochimaru surged to his feet was quite unsettling. Utterly graceful, even as he patted the dust clinging to his clothing, the fluid lines of his movements belied the glint in his heavily narrowed eyes. If looks alone could kill... The promise of death echoed in his voice when he took an imposing step towards the source of his displeasure, drawling another low, "_So_."

"Orochimaru-sama!"

The redhead was clearly frightened by Orochimaru, so much so that Deidara nearly laughed. Nearly. Doing so would give too much credit to the Sannin. Still, it was both intriguing and amusing at how Orochimaru slowly approached the woman, his every move calculated to intimidate and it damn worked. Even from a distance, Deidara could see the sweat pouring down the woman's face, making her forehead shine underneath the hot sun.

"You refer to me with respect, but I cannot help but wonder just how sincere you are,_ Karin_."

The woman's name echoed blankly in Deidara's head. He had no idea who she was but she seemed important, considering that the two apparently knew each other. For Orochimaru to say her name with dripping loathing it was palpable... All of sudden, Deidara was on high alert, straining his ears to listen intently to the conversation – more like interrogation, he corrected with a rush of afterthought.

"I've always known you harboured feelings for Sasuke-kun...though not to the extent of betraying me."

Sasuke? Deidara clenched his hands into fists as images of the bastard flitted in and out of his vision.

"I didn't betray you!"

"No?" The scornful bite in Orochimaru's voice was harsh, grating – so at odds with his smooth, silken silver tongue.

Only when Orochimaru finally reached Karin did he stop moving, coming to stand dangerously close, but only his legs halted. His upper body continued to move – to terrorise – as he arched his spine to loom over Karin, dwarfing her with his considerable height. The height difference only served to add to his towering, menacing form as he leaned forward, mere inches from her face.

"Do you know what I loathe most of all, Karin?" His question was rhetorical, for he didn't wait for an answer. Instead, in a voice that insinuated Karin was of the lowest species blighting earth, he gave his answer – one that caused her to flinch almost violently. "I hate bad liars."

Really, the redhead must be shitting her pants. Deidara was sure of that and smothered another highly inappropriate laugh with the hand, even more amused when his hand mouth smiled against his skin in agreement. It would have drawn attention to him and he was curious to see where this was going. There was something ineffably captivating about the scene – about how Orochimaru instilled fear just by his presence alone.

"And do you know why that is so?" When Karin said nothing, her crimson eyes darting back and forth from the ground to the burning inn, Orochimaru took the initiative to grasp her chin. She gasped at the contact. "Look at me, my dear. Do not be rude when your elders are addressing you – I thought I taught you better than that, Karin."

From where Deidara stood, he could see everything. The innocuous manner in which Orochimaru held her chin between her fingers foreshadowed something entirely else. The pressure was slight, just barely there, since Karin was not actively fighting him, but Deidara saw beyond that. It was though Orochimaru held her very life, shivering and sweating and all, in the palm of his hands – fingers that could tighten painfully at any second.

"I hate bad liars because they lack tact." There was a pause, one filled with silence and seeping tension, building up to what Orochimaru said – _spat_ – next, all polite pretense gone in the wake of his relentless belittling. "_You_, Karin, lack tact, daring to lie before me, as you claim to have not betrayed me when I've seen everything through Sasuke-kun."

The Sannin was bipolar, Deidara thought with a raised brow as he considered what Orochimaru said next. His demeanour was suddenly sweet – so sweet it was _poisonous_.

"Tell me something, Karin, my dear." White fingers began to stroke the definition of Karin's chin. Creamy skin was caressed almost lovingly between pale fingertips. "Why should I do anything other than slit your pretty neck to splatter that red substance I love so much on the ground here and now?"

Well, hell, Deidara thought to say but didn't, taken by surprise at the sweetly spoken preposition that was anything but nice. The deceptively murderous approach wasn't one he was familiar with, preferring to simply blow his opponents up in lieu of his fleeting art, but he couldn't deny it was effective. It was quite refreshing, actually, since opponents didn't usually last long in the wake of his fury. It was new.

"You were always a good experiment, harnessing the Uzumaki Clan's impressive life force," Orochimaru mused thoughtfully, recalling the time he had experimented on Karin and how compliant she had been. It was a shame to let her go. Unfortunately, his tolerance for insubordination was very, very low – he made this deadly clear when he parted his lips, an unmistakable hiss sounding at the back of his throat. "I think it's time we tested just how strong that life force is."

Fortunately for Karin, Orochimaru never got to carry out his threat, much to his displeasure. All of a sudden, just as the tip of Kusanagi gleamed from his mouth, he was yanked unceremoniously backwards into a solid chest. Karin's life slipped through his fingers as she, too, was pulled in the opposite direction by Sakura. As a last ditch attempt, he tried to extend Kusanagi but the arms linking around his middle squeezed hard, effectively causing him to abandon the attack.

With a snarl, Orochimaru utilised his serpentine body to their slithering capabilities, enabling him to twist around in the hold. By the time he was done, he was inches from Deidara's coolly assessing face – so close that the torn skin dangled near blue eyes. The sheer indifference ignited his fury, nearly making him explode as he curled his fingers around the other man's neck even as they hit the ground together.

Never before had Orochimaru felt this sort of fury boiling inside him.

The part of him that Root had tampered with, locking away his emotions through rigorous training, had now been unlocked. Rudeness, profanity, embarrassment...such trivialities were just that – pointless matters, encroaching his personal space only to pass by into the void of nothingness. On the occasion he would be aggravated, the sources of annoyance would always be silenced, be it painfully so he could savour it or quickly and mercifully.

Even Hiruzen, who had sealed his jutsu away, hadn't been able to evoke such anger. All he had felt at the time was pure rage only for it to simmer, left to abate as he saw his former teacher's body fall to the ground, receiving a sense of satisfaction despite what it had ultimately cost him.

But with Deidara, this was different. He had allowed his arrogance to get the better of him, underestimating Hiruzen's sealing power. Perhaps, with more research, he could have stopped the sealing, but not _this_ accursed thing – the damned bond. It was something else, not simply dangling near his fingertips but actually transcending his knowledge and genius – the very thing he prided himself for.

The fool beneath him was tied to him, so warm, strong and full of life. Orochimaru could feel the radiating warmth intensely even through the barriers of his clothes as he straddled the other man. Oh, how he longed to end the pulse he felt at his hands, wanting nothing more than to drive Kusanagi into the bare chest encased by his thighs, to follow the black string sealing the monstrosity of a heart and stab it.

It angered him to end that he could not.

* * *

"Hey, pinky!" Karin struggled in the stranglehold of a grip, twisting her body but to no avail. The pink-haired woman was stronger than she looked. "Let me go!"

Sakura resisted the urge to knock redhead – who she now knew was called Karin – out cold. Doing so would hinder their movements, forcing her to carry the woman on her back, and as strong as she was she still had reservations about the two missing-nins. To stop running, even for the shortest of moments, would invite disaster in the form of retribution, recalling Orochimaru's murderous expression.

The very thought of it sent a chill crawling up her spine, for she had never seen such killing intent in her life. The worst thing was that Orochimaru was certainly capable of it – perhaps even had an unhealthy aptitude for it, twisted guy he was. She could only imagine what hell Deidara was copping from thwarting his attempted murder.

Oh dear heavens.

The curse to the sky was bashed into her skull a second time when she felt sharp nails dig into her arm. With a cry, she faltered, nearly dropping Karin but managed to anchor her by grabbing the woman's waist.

"Stop fighting me," Sakura hissed tightly, forcing herself to be calm. The redhead was Sasuke's teammate, therefore she needed to get her to the eight-man squad before the situation worsened. "Karin, stop!"

Karin was on the verge of biting pinky when something compelled her to stop. Pushing her glasses up her nose, she all but clung to Sakura tightly, uncaring if she suffocated the medic as she hoarsely yelled, "Run, bitch!"

"What the–"

Glancing over her shoulder in annoyance, Sakura's heart hammered in her chest when she understood what Karin meant. There, behind her, were the rapidly moving forms of Deidara closely followed by Orochimaru. She briefly wondered why the hell they were being chased when the answer struck her hard. Damn it, they also wanted to get their hands on Karin! The redhead was a direct link to Sasuke.

Suddenly, Karin was screaming, alternating between calling her a "bitch" and "pinky" while hugging her deathly tight and pulling her hair, threatening to render her deaf and cut the circulation in her body. Soon enough, Sakura was screaming at her too, rising to the challenge by using an array of colourful curses that not only put Karin to shame but also caused her to fall silent.

As Sakura glanced over her shoulder, risking another look at Deidara and Orochimaru, she realised Karin's quiet heralded something else. The body she collided with was hard, almost ridiculously so as if made of stone, but the shock at that paled in comparison to seeing its immensely tall owner. Skin was grey as if it was cursed, appearing in a state of extreme decay while eyes were multicoloured – one a lovely shade of red, the other gold, surrounded by inky black.

If Sakura hadn't been scared as of yet by the two criminals who pursued them, she most certainly was now, her fear escalating wildly at what the monster roared in greeting.

"I'm going to kill you all!"

* * *

**A/N: **For the record, Sakura/Karin is awesome. They should both slap Sasuke for spurning them then get married, skipping off into the sunset together as a pink-red...blob...because they're hugging, hence the blob silhouette.


	5. Revenge

**A/N:** I enjoyed writing this chapter a lot. Writing Bitch!Oro is fun and Deidara is such a passionate spitfire. Can't wait for them to bond ;) For reference and visuals, check out manga chapter 364. The setting there is where this stuff goes down.

* * *

Chapter Four – Revenge

* * *

The second Deidara rounded the corner of the deserted street in a sweeping slide, immediately spotting the massive man skidding to a halt at the far end of the lane, he saw _trouble_. The guy was a giant! From a distance, the top of his bright orange hair reached the top of the door behind him, nearly obscuring it from view had it not been widely set. He was as tall as Kisame – if not actually taller – and that was certainly saying something!

At that trail of thought, Kisame's shark-like face appeared in his head before quickly filtering out. Although fleeting and light in colour, given Kisame's pale blue skin with his beady little eyes, what it evoked was important. It served to remind Deidara of his goals – just what exactly he was doing here, chasing the redhead connected to Sasuke. Once he got hold of her, he could potentially get a lead on Sasuke, use it to exact revenge and then convene with Akatsuki.

Another face flashed before his eyes following his thoughts, this time one that was unfamiliar that compelled his hands to clench tightly. Still sprinting, Deidara threw a quick glance over his shoulder, meeting a set of narrowed gold eyes. Similar to Kisame who was like a shark, brutality and appearance and all, Orochimaru bore a striking resemblance to a snake. It wasn't just the outward appearance that was startlingly snakelike – it was everything else.

Mystery shrouded Orochimaru in darkness like a second skin, masking his true intentions while snake brille covered his amber eyes. It was as clear as a bright cloudless day that the man was thinking, forever contemplating anything and everything, but the extent of his thoughts never truly shone in his eyes. That alone was enough to light the explosive bomb of fury inside Deidara.

He really had no fucking clue as to what he wanted to do with Orochimaru. Initially, he had set out to blow up Sasuke for stealing his kill. As Orochimaru's replacement in Akatsuki, it was his job to dispose of his predecessor. Or at least that's what he told himself at the time. What should have been an easy walk through the park turned into a complication; the road was no longer straight, rather a labyrinthine problem with so many diverging paths.

From the moment he had escaped death's swiping grasp, snapping open his eyelids to find Orochimaru – out of all the godforsaken people in the world – at what should have been his deathbed, he had been struck clueless. To add to it, Orochimaru had saved his life; despite not fully knowing how, with an impressive life force surging through him, he knew it to be true.

And that's where it got even more complicated.

Even now, just thinking about it, caused Deidara's head to ache. Gritting his teeth together, he shook his head to clear his mind, hoping to take comfort in what he was going to do next – then again, 'comfort' seemed inaccurate. It failed to encapsulate just what revenge entailed.

Apparently revenge was a dish best served cold but he thought otherwise. To be cold was to be unfeeling, unaffected; his art was about fire, going out with a vivid, colourful bang – making others experience it if they didn't understand in the cruelest way possible.

Deidara grinned wolfishly at the thought as he plunged his hands into his clay pouches. Since the size of C1s were tiny, the small bombs were produced fast, instantly flapping their tiny wings towards the orange-haired giant. He repeated the process swiftly and efficiently, commanding them to sail through the air past the pink-red blur in front of him.

Despite meeting Sakura briefly in the past, he didn't really give a damn about her nor the redhead in her arms. Under normal circumstances, he would have let Orochimaru have his way, killing the redhead in cold blood. Admittedly – if only to himself – he would have probably had a good laugh, remembering just how much he had enjoyed watching Orochimaru's intimidating spectacle.

As it were, from what he had gathered just moments before, Karin was Sasuke's teammate, therefore he preferred to _not_ have her head decapitated, hence C1's trajectory avoiding them.

The birds reached their target in record time just as the women crashed into it. Their collision with the giant caused Sakura to stumble backwards, tripping clumsily with Karin's burdened weight so that they fell to the ground. The distance was slight, still relatively close at the man's feet, but it was enough to ensure that they didn't become charred crispy when C1 exploded.

Deidara was mildly surprised when the smoke receded to see the giant still alive. Instead of gaping indents, the tender flesh normally burnt to leave a charred cavity, his skin was still in tact although not unmarred. A grey, decaying sort of tinge covered half of his body, spreading rapidly over the area where C1 had exploded on contact.

Upon closer inspection, leaping over the crumpled forms of the kunoichis, the mottled skin looked cursed – as if it was tainted. Deidara frowned heavily as he jerked his leg forward, pointed knee first, into the unmarked vulnerable area of the giant's neck at breakneck speed.

The attack made contact but not without repercussions. Deidara hissed as his kneecap was locked in place a ridiculously strong chin while a large hand latched onto his calf, blunt nails digging into the tender flesh. His hiss turned into a snarl when the giant raised his arm, gathering momentum for his impending attack. The giant's arm was no longer an arm but actually a scaly monstrosity, complete with a razor-sharp edge that cut through the air as it descended swiftly.

Deidara yelped in pain as the axe sliced through precious flesh, skin and bone, severing his calf from his knee. Even for someone like him, possessing a high threshold to pain, having had his arms blasted off by Konoha shinobi on different occasions, it damn hurt! The brutal pain, however, was short-lived for the severed limb reattached itself as though propelled by an unseen force.

For the second mesmerising time, Deidara saw with his very own eyes the mysterious power Orochimaru had bestowed him. It was both fascinating and horrifying at how his torn skin converged, repairing itself in record time. The physical injury turned out to be just that – a physical, superficial thing, one that was rendered laughably pathetic in light of his incredible regenerative capabilities.

Had Deidara not been in the midst of battle, he most certainly would have examined his leg. Instead, he smiled a shark's smile, withdrew a kunai from his pouch and repaid the favour in full. Blood spurted out in a crimson fountain as the kunai was thrust into the clear, unmarked area of the giant's shoulder. The cursed taint had not yet dotted the other side of his body, leaving it openly vulnerable.

The attack compelled the giant to drop him to clutch his wound. With a guttural roar, Deidara grinning sadistically at the owner's pain, he was released. He felt a sharp bump at his back and hissed, instantly twisting around to glare at the kunoichis. They should have cushioned his fall – for the most part, they did – but the ensuing catfight was vicious, subsequently affecting him.

"Get off me, bitch!" Karin was yelling, clawing at Sakura's front. "I'm not going to Konoha's prison!"

Sakura raised her arms to block the onslaught of attacks. "If you don't come with me, you're going to die!"

"Then, so be it, pinky!"

"Shut the fuck up!" Deidara ordered loudly as he loomed over them with his arms raised. The overwhelming effect was intensified by the hand mouths going wild in the heat of battle, the tongues licking the air in excitement, and the blood staining his face. "You're both bitches so shut up, yeah!"

Two pairs of eyes swivelled onto him, the swiping hands stilling, and Deidara suppressed the urge to cackle maniacally. There was something about the situation, how he was lying on top of the two vixens. It went beyond a normal turn on, for the monster at his back made it all the dangerous. Maybe he really was insane, the thought making his crooked grin widen, stretching for miles across his flushed face.

The three, tangled in each others' limbs, moved as one to dodge the giant's hammering attack. It was literally a hammer attack for he had transformed his arm into a bludgeoning weapon. Dry, dusty earth fissured on impact from sheer brute strength.

Deidara was momentarily distracted by the vixens pressing against him that he nearly just laid there, basking in the moment. Scratch what he thought before – he wasn't simply insane but suicidal. Unfortunately, the giant put a stop to the moment when he snarled in rage. Using his physical strength – amplified by the power coursing inside him – Deidara swept his arms around the kunoichis, tightened his hold, then threw them to the side.

Naturally, they were cursing him and each other as they hit the ground, but he paid the profanity no heed. Deidara surged to his feet and dashed to the redhead, again using his strength to haul her up.

"Where's Sasuke?" Deidara demanded in a growl, mere inches from Karin's face.

As expected, Karin answered him with a punch to the gut. He blocked it deftly with his forearm, grinning all the while.

"Nice try, yeah." Deidara's eyes flicked to the side to take note of Sakura as she scrambled to her feet. This was going to be difficult with her in picture. His voice was rife with impatience when he said, "I'll ask again. Where is Sasuke?"

This time, Karin actually said something, only it wasn't the answer he wanted. All that escaped her lips was a piercing scream as a whisper of movement behind him drew attention. Hair as dark as the midnight sky tickled his cheek in a caress as its owner appeared dramatically. At such close quarters, Orochimaru's presence once again had Karin terrified, and with speed attained through burgeoning fear, she was fleeing the scene.

Everyone was after her in an instant. Gold clashed with blue briefly before they both gave chase, each wanting to get a hold of Karin for different reasons. Orochimaru wanted to strangle her for betrayal with his bare hands while Deidara, wanting a lead on Sasuke, needed her alive.

The overwhelming need for revenge was strong, tying in with the beauty of his art. This was firmly implanted in Deidara's mind when he launched himself forward, tackling Orochimaru to the ground. A struggle followed the fall, neither of them wanting to let the other have their way. It was rather odd, simply because neither was willing to kill the other since they were connected, while at the same time they were none too gentle.

During the scuffle, the battle for dominance, Deidara somehow managed to grab hold of Orochimaru's wrist. He twisted it sharply, painfully, causing Orochimaru to hiss in displeasure as the muscles in his arms protested. Tightening his grip, Deidara thrust his free hand behind him, delving into his clay pouch. C1 took the shape of a slithering snake that coiled around Orochimaru's ankle.

It was mockery at its finest, the C1 snake slithering around the personified serpent himself. Deidara lingered long enough to relish in the nasty scowl darkening Orochimaru's face, smirking a bit before leaping away.

The explosive sound, followed by the drowning voice of an agonised hiss, was music to his ears as he pursued Karin. C1 was his most basic explosive in his arsenal, therefore it would not kill Orochimaru and merely act as a deterrent to slow him down. From how his severed limb had healed so quickly, it stood to reason that Orochimaru possessed the same – if not superior – regenerative capabilities given how it was his power.

For a few seconds, remembering what should have been his deathbed, Deidara felt snakes squeeze his insides with guilt. The Sannin had saved his life yet here he was using Orochimaru's powers against him. It was ungrateful – an act of betrayal, perhaps, similar to Karin's insubordination. How – if at all – was he any better than the redhead?

Deidara harshly silenced the question, pushing away the stabbing guilt to the furthermost recesses of his mind. It wouldn't do him any good to dwell on it, on having a _conscience_ when throughout his life all he had ever done was live by his art. He wasn't one of Orochimaru's followers – heck, he didn't even know the guy, despite their connection – so it was stupid of him to think he was doing anything wrong.

What he was doing was right – the thing he was born to do. Living and dying by his rendition of art – it was all he had ever known, and as he caught up with Karin, following the trail of her red hair disappearing into what appeared to be an inn, he knew it to be true. As soon as he scaled the building, slipping in through the open window, his pale blue eyes taking the scene in a sweeping glance, he _felt_ the assertion of it.

There, lying in the middle of the room on a makeshift bed, was none other than Uchiha Sasuke. Bandages covered his forehead, winding around his godforsaken blue-tinted spiky hair, the strands framing his haggard face. A healing pad was taped to one cheek, concealing the wound beneath, but Deidara found that minor detail didn't matter. Regardless of the pad, or the change in attire consisting of a dark robe, Sasuke looked like he had seen better days.

He looked like shit.

The wolfish smile from before showed its malicious self when it curved Deidara's lips. It was crooked, one corner of his mouth curling upwards in accordance with his murderous thoughts, but more than that it was deadly, appearing somewhat insane. The smile was reflected in his pale blue eyes that shone with a sudden glint. Sadistic glee swirled in their stormy depths, a sea of anger crashing in waves, manifesting outwards as he visibly shook with the force of his emotions.

Deidara leapt off the wooden balustrade slowly, carefully, the lingering speed suggesting he was savouring something particularly juicy which he was. He wasn't a fan of paintings, since they were static and unmoving, but he couldn't deny that he enjoyed the one before him. The painting lacked colour, inked in dark shades with smears of white yet it was still somehow entrancing.

It was almost tempting in that sense, the lack of vibrant colour begging to be painted, to be given life. Deidara almost gave into the impulse to splash bloody paint on the canvas but decided otherwise, keeping his feet firmly rooted to the tatami mats. Doing so would be too quick, too fleeting, and as ephemeral in nature as his art was, he wanted to enjoy this.

"Well, well," Deidara drawled smoothly, playing the game so haughtily Orochimaru would have chuckled. The fact that Sasuke failed to kill the Sannin only added to his triumph, to his devilish smile. "If it isn't baby Uchiha."

Sasuke regarded Deidara coolly, the veiled insult passing him by. "You're supposed to be dead."

"Sorry to disappoint," Deidara returned with casualness that he didn't feel as vengeful heat fired hotly in his stomach. "Thanks to Karin here, I found you quite easily."

Sasuke's gaze instantly hardened with that knowledge, sharpening like a polished blade as he slanted his head to the redhead in question. Almost instantly, Karin was stammering an apology of sorts, soon twisting the story to her own end as though she was a victim. He listened with barely concealed impatience as she rambled on a tangent, mentioning names that she seemed to be pulling out of thin air.

Jūgo's name didn't faze him in the slightest – the names of Sakura and Orochimaru, however, did.

"Karin," Sasuke cut in sharply, the authority in his voice sounding like a cracking whip as he interrupted her ridiculous story, "leave the room. I'll deal with you later."

Deidara frowned at the rude dismissal. If anything, his hatred towards the bastard increased at how he still played it so damn cool. He was mildly shocked to watch Karin acquiesce to his dismissal with disgusting acceptance. From the swearing, the vile cursing, and the attempted punch to his gut, he would have thought someone like Karin – as fiery as her bright red hair – would have kicked up a fuss.

What was so special about Sasuke?

A loud, monstrous thump stole his attention from assessing Sasuke's stoic face. The door to the room did not simply bang open – it flew off its hinges, crashing into the opposite wall. Karin, who had been on the verge of leaving, scoffed as Sakura entered the room slowly, taking the scene in with keen, pale green eyes.

"Sasuke," Sakura addressed tightly, trembling a bit at the sight of her former teammate. She lingered on his battered form before switching her gaze to Karin, who in turn gave her a pointed look, and then Deidara. "You."

Deidara calmly extended his middle finger, conveying his thoughts eloquently without so much as ever speaking a word. As he did so, playing on his rudeness, he surreptitiously delved his other hand into his clay pouch.

"I know what you're doing," Sasuke called out from his makeshift bed, inclining his head towards Deidara. "Remember, the Sharingan can read everything."

"Hmph." Deidara withdrew his hand to reveal a tiny clay creation. Much like the one he fashioned for Orochimaru, this C1 was moulded as a snake. Its power was pretty standard but that was beyond the point. What it resembled – the power of rebirth and good fortune from the white snake – was what mattered. He made sure to show this as he commanded it to slither around his fingers.

Every eye in the room was drawn to it, narrowing intently as it stopped. Deidara grinned at it before raising his head, meeting Sasuke's calculating gaze. "If your Sharingan is so fucking great," he began quietly, tremors of excitement visibly wracking his body as his voice rose in volume, escalating wildly, "then read _this_! Katsu!"

C1 exploded brilliantly, sending sparks of bright, blinding colour everywhere. The pain erupting over his exploded hand was agonising but the shock etched clearly on Sasuke's price was damn worth it. Finally, at long last, the bastard's control shattered, emotion shining in his crimson eyes. Whether it was because he blew up his own hand, the audacity like a slap in the face, or the actual art it made no difference – he had gotten what he had wanted.

Deidara grinned for all he was worth when the burnt flesh lightened to healthy cream. Darkened skin was sewn together, almost as if invisible needles were threading it back together. In a matter of seconds, right before everyone's very eyes, his hand was back to pristine condition. The hand mouth even went so far as to lick the air tauntingly, challenging them all as it swept saliva across his palm.

"Go on, then." Deidara leaned forward, placing his hands forward on top of each other – palms first – in his customary stance. Three tongues trailed out to lick his skin as he issued an echoing challenge. "Make your move, Uchiha."

* * *

Orochimaru faltered in step as C1 tightened around his ankle. Seething, he shook his leg, hoping the movement would forcibly remove the clay creation. Speaking of which, this particular C1 took the form of a snake. The sheer nerve of the blonde to craft this particular C1 in his image...

The mockery caused his simmering anger to burn, and in turn, he shook his leg too roughly, resulting in the very thing he tried to prevent. C1 exploded in a sparkling shower, leaving a burnt gaping cavity in his leg. It healed almost instantly, the power of the white snake rising to repair the charred skin, but it still angered him. Just what was Deidara's problem, adamant on stopping him from teaching _his _subordinates a well-deserved lesson?

It's not as if Karin meant anything to him – they had never met as far as Orochimaru was concerned. Besides, judging from his fight with Sasuke, Deidara wasn't a person to easily make friends in such short periods of time. Unless...

Surely not, Orochimaru thought dubiously, bothered to even think that Deidara was out for revenge. It would petty of him to do so. Then again, Deidara was a little unbalanced and, taking into account how Sasuke had dismissed his art, he had been severely offended. He had apparently carried it to his supposed deathbed, so undoubtedly it would be the first thing on his priority list – to exact revenge.

Rubbing his temples at the disastrous thought, Orochimaru moved to follow the chakra signatures he sensed, only to halt as another familiar face came into view. It seemed to be a thing of the day, he mused sourly.

"Suigetsu," he greeted in a low, mocking drawl, skimming his gold eyes over the young man in question with something akin to distaste, "what a pleasant surprise."

Suigetsu said nothing and instead merely plastered his usual shark-like grin, revealing incredibly sharp teeth, however it didn't quite reach his eyes that avoided staring directly into that of a snake. Every now and then, his eyes would stray towards Orochimaru's form only to veer to the side, looking anywhere but at the Sannin.

Orochimaru saw right through him but instead played a game he was all too familiar with. "My dear experiment," he murmured softly, gently, opening his arms wide as if to receive the hug that never came, "why are you so icy towards me?"

The word 'icy' was a play on Suigetsu's water temperament and they both knew it. Suigetsu's response was to unstrap Kubikiribōchō from his back and point it threateningly towards the Sannin. The initial shake of his fingers grasping the handle had nothing to do with the immense weight of the weapon.

"Quit acting high and mighty, Orochimaru," Suigetsu shot through the distance between them after a tense moment, bravely standing up to his former jailor. "I don't know how or why you're here but you don't scare me. Your jutsu is still sealed."

Orochimaru chuckled lightly, unperturbed. If anything, Suigetsu's courage excited him, compelling him to break the pretense of bravado. It was always a lovely thing to toy with human emotions, to break down others, reducing them to the level where they only deserved to be which was at his feet. To have Suigetsu standing up to him after everything – the experimentation, the torture, the pain – was oh-so wrong.

It simply would not do.

"Is that so..." Orochimaru deliberately trailed off, leaving the words hanging ominously in the air as he began to circle Suigetsu. He did so slowly, the speed bordering on being lazy which contrasted with the sharp glint in his heavily lidded eyes. Once he completed a full round, he stopped, tilting his head to side, giving the impression he wanted nothing more than to listen to Suigetsu's life story.

Orochimaru's tone when he said, "Explain something to me then, Suigetsu," emphasised that, as did the wide smile revealing equally sharp teeth. "If you are so confident given my weakened state, why is it you keep avoiding my eyes?"

Still smiling, Orochimaru boldly stepped forward, beginning to close the distance separating them. All of a sudden, he made a sharp movement, crossing his arms, one supporting the other. He uttered a soft, predatory laugh when Suigetsu dropped into battle stance, immediately raising his sword.

"So tense," Orochimaru commented softly, swallowing the distance by taking another single step. Suigetsu was indeed tense, his body taut, his stance wary, as though he would crack under pressure at any moment. "Why do you tremble?"

Suigetsu tightened his grip on his weapon, growling a defiant, "I'm not!" To prove his point, he rushed forward, bringing his blade sidewards in a wide sweeping slash. The massive broadsword sliced through Orochimaru's middle cleanly and effortlessly, rending him in two pieces. For a moment, he looked pleased, the fear ebbing away to make room for triumph as his former jailor fell to the ground with a heavy thud.

It was such a wondrous feeling to kill – more than that, ending the life of the man who had caused Suigetsu so much pain.

Orochimaru had humiliated him by capturing him all those years ago, cruelly putting his dream of collecting the strongest swords in existence to an indefinite stop. The pain of having his dream on hold was nothing compared to what later followed – countless experiments, cold clinical eyes raking over him to take note of his expression as he was trapped in a tank, never out of kindness for his well being but instead to observe symptoms wrought by its owners' merciless hands.

Suigetsu shook the nightmares away, taking comfort in knowledge that Orochimaru was now dead.

Or so he thought.

The fine hairs on his neck stood up as a chill went down his spine, the iciness bearing no relation to his affiliation with water, instead heralding something else. He froze, snared by unseen roots of fear as he felt a whisper of movement behind him. The presence was menacing, casting a shadow on his shorter form as he stood in place, but it was the voice – the hauntingly low, raspy sound – that truly had him trembling.

"You can't fool me, my dear boy," Orochimaru purred in Suigetsu's ear, going so far as to caress his shoulder – a mockery of affection since all he had ever done was inflict pain. "You are mine."

The ghosting touch on his shoulder jolted Suigetsu into action. "Fuck you!" he swore angrily, twisting around to execute another swift slash. Just as he pivoted on the spot, swinging his weapon around, pale fingers shot out, the speed startling him. The hand at his neck was punishing though not to the degree of killing him, lest his form liquefy due to extreme pressure. In a way, it was worse that Orochimaru chose the lesser option, for it meant that he _knew_.

"Watch your filthy mouth, Suigetsu." Orochimaru increased the pressure of his fingers slightly to emphasise his point. "You should know that I do not appreciate such dirty language," his chiding voice dropped to a sultrier tone, one that sent shivers dancing across Suigetsu's cold skin, "or perhaps my methods weren't persuasive enough?"

Sadly, Orochimaru never received an answer as a thundering rumble of footsteps behind him grabbed his attention. He was forced to release Suigetsu, the young man immediately scarpering to place safe distance between them as he dashed to the side. A loud, terrifying roar tore through the air in accordance with the hulking man charging on the scene, heading straight for the Sannin.

Orochimaru rolled his eyes at the straightforward attack, making a point of it to dodge Jūgo's tackle with obvious ease. When Jūgo repeated the attack, twisting his body round in a swerve to tackle him, this time Orochimaru jumped high into the air, driving his heel backwards so that it knocked the young man in the back of the head. The attack was light and weak but what it lacked in raw power was compensated for with precision – enough to knock some sense into Jūgo's imbalanced mind.

The curse transformation receded somewhat, retracting until only half of Jūgo's body was covered in grey patches. The bloodlust was still present, however it was dimmed, the kick striking a nerve in his addled mind. If anything, Orochimaru was pleased that Jūgo was still trapped on the precarious line of sanity, teetering on the brink of losing it.

"Jūgo, I have to say I'm disappointed in you," Orochimaru reprimanded with a wholly dramatic sigh, as though addressing a naughty child. "I expected this insubordination from the other two but never you." He edged closer to Jūgo, unblinking as the tall man raised his hand to strike, effectively putting a stop to it by delivering a brutal blow of assailing guilt. "Didn't you want to follow Kimimaro's living legacy? I thought you were his friend."

At Kimimaro's name, Jūgo shrank backwards, the glaze in his eyes suggesting he was not quite there. He dropped to his knees, peering upwards into Orochimaru's frowning face.

"I-I am!" Jūgo growled urgently, his desperation to make Orochimaru see in stark contrast to his earlier demeanour. "Kimimaro was my friend!"

Orochimaru knew he had struck gold. "Was?" he repeated incredulously, one dark eyebrow quirked in contemplation. "So he is no longer your friend? Ah," his voice dropped here, a hushed sort of sadness lacing in with his quiet tone, "I understand now."

"No! Kimimaro is still my best friend even in death!"

"Is that so, Jūgo? Then explain why you chose to follow Sasuke-kun – the very person who defied me." The accusation was spoken roughly, the harshness twisting Orochimaru's silken voice contrasting with what he said next, changing tactics as he drove the dagger deeper into Jūgo's fragile heart. "If Kimimaro was alive he would surely be very sad to discover what you've done."

Suigetsu refused to remain idle as Jūgo played right into Orochimaru's twisted, manipulative hands. "Don't listen to him, Jūgo!" he cut in furiously, charging at Orochimaru with his weapon raised. "He's manipulating you – can't you see that?"

Orochimaru waited until the last possible moment to move. He ducked swiftly, dodging the strike that was aimed at his torso, taking advantage of it to slither around until he was behind Suigetsu. The white-haired shark tried to escape but even he was no match for the snake, pale fingers sliding up his body until it was covering his mouth, the notion enforcing the chiding command, "Hush, Suigetsu. It's rude to speak unless spoken to."

When Suigetsu attempted to bite his fingers, Orochimaru simply brought his other hand to the man's neck. The chop was swift, hard, lingering painfully as it pushed against the column of his throat such that Suigetsu abandoned the tactic. The broadsword clattered uselessly to the ground.

Satisfied, Orochimaru lightly patted Suigetsu's throat, once again mocking him with caressing affection in contrast to his cruel tendencies. He placed his chin on Suigetsu's shoulder, using the leverage to turn them both around until they were facing Jūgo. The tall man appeared so small on the ground, rocking back and forth as he clutched his heart that was bleeding at each word that escaped Orochimaru's mouth.

"Kimimaro gave up his life for me – for my ambition," Orochimaru informed him softly, stating it as though it was the truth which, despite his intended manipulation, it was. Another sigh escaped his lips, the resignation a very palpably thing as he dropped another bombshell. "But, I suppose Kimimaro never really meant much to you."

The accusation caused the dagger to twist in his heart. Jūgo choked back a sob, swiping his face with his large hands as though he was ashamed. All of a sudden, he raised his head, seeing Orochimaru's face through teary eyes. His mental instability was exposed when he changed in the blink of an eye, the monster within screaming for release as he pointed a shaking finger towards Sannin.

"Get out of my head!" Jūgo was yelling, one second threatening Orochimaru with his jabbing finger, the next clutching his skull in intense pain. "Stop, before I do something I'll regret! I-I don't want to hurt anyone."

There it was – the opening he had been waiting for.

Orochimaru shoved Suigetsu to the side, tossing him down with the discarded ease of a rag doll as he went in for the kill. He lowered his height until he was at Jūgo's level, feigning equal grounding as he extended his hand forward in comfort. With sadness he didn't feel, he gently took hold of Jūgo's chin, murmuring the devastating words that ultimately drove the dagger to the hilt. "But you _have_, Jūgo. You've hurt me – you've hurt _Kimimaro_."

It was done.

As Orochimaru turned away, absently listening to the physically strong yet mentally weak man break down in the middle of the street, he knew it to be so. The mask that showed sadness melted away, replaced with a frown that sharpened at the deafening sound of an explosion nearby. It seemed he had truly immersed himself in teaching his subordinates a lesson in betrayal, reasserting his position in their life.

Perhaps, he really was insane, thriving off the despair he skillfully compelled others to feel. Oh well. The thought dispassionately swept across his mind for a second before vanishing as he headed towards the smoke rising from what appeared to be an inn.

Orochimaru channelled the precise amount of chakra to dash up the wall, spotting an open balcony. He set both hands on the wood, gathered momentum, then propelled his body high into the air, landing on the balcony lightly.

Amber eyes took in the chaos with one glance.

Orochimaru dashed forward, ignoring the screaming kunoichis having their own catfight in the adjoining bathroom. He grabbed hold of the two brawling men, yanked them apart, and then spun around on the spot, sending them crashing in different directions into the walls. There was a brief moment where he contemplated on who to follow before ultimately making his decision.

Deidara hollered as he was thrown against the wall, the strength behind it so forceful that he fell threw. Something sharp scraped his head. Long, surprisingly strong fingers given their slender build latched onto his arms. He was hauled to his feet, pressed against a warm, solid chest as arms snaked around his body. There were so many sounds blaring in his hearing – screaming voices, crackling fire, cracking rubble.

Vaguely, in his disoriented state, Deidara realised that one of the loud voices belonged to him – the other, sounding so close, belonging to Orochimaru who hissed at him when he tried to break free, lunging for Sasuke who was staring at them with wide, shocked eyes.

"No! Sasuke-kun is mine! I need him!"

The next thing Deidara knew, he was breathing in fresh air that might as well have been noxious for he was denied the revenge that would have set him free, ultimately cursing the one who had saved his life.


	6. Shatter

Chapter Five – Shatter

* * *

Orochimaru rolled his eyes, for once not suppressing the rather childish urge to do so as he trudged through the dense forest. With Deidara in tow, they were currently making their way away from the mess with Sasuke, and had opted to use the cover of the forest to mask their racks. It was a necessary precaution, even though it was clear that everyone was after Sasuke instead of them – at least, for _now_.

He was no fool. The life of a missing-nin was not unknown to him. It was a very dangerous gamble living life on the edge – on the run. People would come after them eventually, be it from Konoha, Deidara's former village, Akatsuki or a combination of the three. The possibilities were endless, extending from hunter-nins from different villages to vengeful souls that sought revenge for whatever reason but no less troublesome.

Still, if Orochimaru thought the inevitable attacks would be troublesome, then the little raging ball of fury beside him was chaotic. He didn't have to look at Deidara directly in the face to _know_ that the blonde was angry, for the sheer emanating waves of seething fury were just that strong. Once again, he rolled his eyes. The pointed notion simply could not be stopped.

It was only a matter of time when Deidara would explode. Much like the nature of his art, the artist was volatile. Underneath the calm, coolly mocking exterior was a fiery spirit, one both strong with conviction yet insecure with self-doubt. Orochimaru had been privy to his exchange with Sasuke, observing everything as a third party of sorts, hearing the hatred saturating Deidara's bellowing voice as he cursed the Sharingan and, by extension, the Uchiha brothers.

The moment they entered a quaint little village, checking into the inn by brutally killing the owner, that hatred was turned onto him.

Deidara slammed the door behind them so hard it warped the wall, causing the wood to crack at the sheer force of his fury. He marched right up to Orochimaru with heavy stomping feet, gripped the collar of his tunic with both hands, and all but snarled, "What the hell is wrong with you?" as he shook the source of his hatred roughly. "Why did you stop me from killing Sasuke?"

"Sasuke-kun is mine," Orochimaru answered darkly, an edge lowering his initially low voice as he fought the maddening urge clamouring for him to lash out like a snake. "I need him."

Disgusted, even though it was the answer he somewhat suspected, remembering the hissing words through the conflagration, Deidara retracted his hands. Just touching Orochimaru made him sick. "You're fucked up, you know," he couldn't help but mutter, disbelief swirling in his blue eyes. "Sasuke wouldn't hesitate to kill you in a heartbeat yet you'd go out on a limb to save his sorry ass."

The scathing remark fell on deaf ears, for Orochimaru merely drawled an indifferent, "Perhaps." He flicked his hair as he turned to face the window. "Regardless, I still need him."

"Oh for fuck's sake, stop riding Sasuke's dick!"

_That_ was enough to ignite the spark within Orochimaru, who all but whipped around so fast by all rights his neck should have snapped. Black hair came alive, swinging around like a malevolent, moving thing in its own right as the incredulity of the insult escaped him in a hiss. "Excuse me?!"

For a split second, seeing Orochimaru well and truly livid for the first time in his life, Deidara nearly forgot what he was doing. The serpentine pupils of his eyes were dilated, nearly popping out of their slits for sockets, glaring at him with such intensity he could feel its burning heat. It was scorching, overwhelming in its incinerating intent, threatening to engulf him in a fiery inferno such that the temperature of the room seemed to escalate wildly.

Deidara was stunned.

For Orochimaru to express himself in such an eloquent way without raising a finger...

It was so artistic.

Shaking away the thought, Deidara stepped forward, jabbing his finger in the air. Hell would freeze over before he backed down and acknowledged another for their art. If he refused to acknowledge Itachi who, from what he heard, had humiliated Orochimaru years ago, then he sure as hell wouldn't praise the latter. "You heard me, bastard!" he roared louder than ever, baring his pearly whites. "Everyone in the goddamn world knows that you're riding his Uchiha dick!"

Orochimaru was scandalised. He looked like he had been slapped.

"I'm doing no such thing!" he refuted vehemently, mortally affronted by the vulgar accusation. No one dominated him, least of all _Sasuke._ Who was this imbecile to not only lecture him but also howl licentious things? "How dare you!"

Deidara looked like he was beside himself. The other man's sheer refusal to see what was so blatantly obvious escaped him, making his clenched jaw slacken. "How dare I? Are you insane?" he shot back incredulously, throwing his hands at a loss in the air as his brain was surely about to explode. "Did Sasuke fuck the sense out of you when you two screwed? He played us both so I was going to finish the job. How dare you!"

That insult was the last straw.

"This conversation is over," Orochimaru stated flatly as he swept past Deidara with tightly clenched fists, not trusting himself to listen to the obscenities spewed at his expense. "I'm going to go out to make sure we weren't followed."

Of course, it was a lie but Deidara didn't need to know that. What he really intended to do was unleash his pent-up rage on something, anything, just so he could taste the control that had evaded him for years – ever since Hiruzen sealed his jutsu. It would be fleeting, yes, but if he didn't get his hands around someone's neck soon, he was certain his fingers would curl around Deidara's and irrevocably seal their entwined fates.

Oh, how the irony of their mysterious bond hurt. It was so painful, so degrading.

What was equally painful was the hand shooting out to enclose around his wrist.

"Oh no you don't, bastard," Deidara growled hotly, using the wrist he had grabbed to spin Orochimaru around to face him. It was only over when he said so. "You're not going anywhere. I'm not finished yet."

"While that epiphany is lovely, I'm afraid it's ultimately irrelevant because _I_ am." Orochimaru lowered his hand to the one clamped around his wrist. The pressure he applied at the fine bone of Deidara's wrist was light yet precise, promising a world of pain as he carefully pushed to make his intentions deadly clear. "As of now, I'm finished with this pointless argument. It serves no purpose other than to rile our emotions which is the last thing we need."

Fucking rich, Deidara thought acidly, mocking the other man by grumbling, "And you're averse to that, yeah? You take yourself too fucking seriously to give a damn, oh great Sannin?"

The words triggered a memory.

_"You only wanted me because you couldn't handle Itachi. Right, Mister 'great Sannin genius'?"_

Orochimaru saw red.

A gasp escaped Deidara before he could stop it. How it happened, he didn't really know – all he knew was that he apparently said the wrong thing as he found himself shoved against the wall, facing the wrong end of an incredibly sharp blade. The sword pierced the air at immense speed, whizzing past his face while sending his golden hair bristling at the sheer velocity, stabbing the wall deep enough to fissure its structure such that it began to crumble.

It was more than a threat – it was a promise of death. Deidara became alarmingly aware of this as he peered out of the corner of his eye, automatically gulping as the gleaming edge of the blade taunted him, situated dangerously close to his cheek. The razor-sharp edge didn't touch his skin but it felt like it had all the same. Still, as inherently deadly as the sword was, it paled in comparison to the murderous intent he saw in Orochimaru's eyes.

Never before had Deidara seen such malice. Of all the criminals he had ever met, including those in Akatsuki, they fell short to the mere way Orochimaru was looking at him right now. He could have sworn his very life flashed right before his eyes, fatally ending when he envisioned the blade being thrust into his skull, rupturing precious skin, bone and his brain to paint the walls red in an artistically spurting fountain.

Was it genjutsu?

No, that didn't sound right – after all, he had trained himself in that field for the sole purpose of defeating Itachi. It wasn't an illusion, rather a true vision had Orochimaru been so inclined to carry it out, as compelling as it was.

Unfortunately, Deidara didn't have time to dwell on the thought as Orochimaru pulled his sword from the wall. From the movement alone, he assumed Orochimaru would back off but the opposite happened. The tables were turned when he found his wrist shackled in a deathly tight hold, and then he was being pulled outside of the room, inconsiderately hauled down a set of stairs and dragged outside.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Deidara questioned with a frown, yanking his arm sharply but to no avail. What the hell was going on here? "Orochimaru, don't you dare ignore me. What are you–"

Orochimaru silenced the furious question with a sharp quelling look. "You wanted to crawl back to Akatsuki's devious clutches, didn't you?"

The edge to the other man's voice sent a chill down Deidara's spine. "Well, yeah," he agreed uneasily, disturbed by the glint in those serpentine eyes. "This isn't what I had in mind, though."

"And just what did you have in mind?" Orochimaru asked with a nasty sneer, regarding the other man with obvious distaste. "Are your wishes as capricious as your temper?"

Deidara felt the first stirrings of anger at the derision. Sure, he had dished the same thing earlier but that wasn't the point. "Now, listen here, you fucking–"

"No, _you_ listen to me." In a flash, Orochimaru had Kusanagi out again, brandishing it in accordance with his whiplash of a voice. They came to an abrupt halt on the dirt path as he rounded on the artist, flattening Kusanagi's edge underneath the smoothness of Deidara's chin. "You are a fool, Deidara-kun. Your art is ridiculous but your ignorance is even worse."

"Ignorance?" Pale blue eyes widened dramatically, reflective of the stormy seas. Waves of anger rippled through his body, surging stronger with each passing second as Deidara glared at Orochimaru. "Who are you to ridicule my art and me, for that matter? Sasuke screwed you harder than he did me!"

For a moment, as soon as the insult was thrown, it looked as if Orochimaru was going to strike Deidara. Amber eyes flashed darkly while pale nostrils flared, betraying his anger, as did the sharp teeth baring past his tightly drawn lips. The moment, however, quickly passed as his lips curved into a sudden smile – one that was so mysterious, hinting of the unknown, that Deidara was disturbed to see it.

Orochimaru couldn't help but chuckle mirthfully at the irony of the everything, murmuring, "You really don't know, do you?"

"Know what?"

Oh, this was _so_ deliciously juicy, Orochimaru thought wickedly, widening his smile. Deidara, the artist who loathed the Sharingan and the Uchiha Clan by extension, had absolutely no idea of the lie he had been living. Shattering the glass that separated lies from reality was always a lovely, powerful thing, and as he considered the young man before him, he was sure this one would be no different.

He would enjoy it immensely.

Orochimaru smirked as he lowered Kusanagi and removed his hand from Deidara's wrist, instead draping it around the man's shoulders. It was a calculated movement to create the illusion of comfort, of understanding as they were closely huddled, which was exactly what he needed. "Do you remember your partner after dear Sasori?" he questioned in a hushed whisper, as though confiding a devastating secret.

"Yeah, Tobi, that stupid pandering idiot," Deidara replied with a sneer, recalling how his partner – useless as he was – had ditched him during his battle with Sasuke. "What about him?"

"He is an Uchiha."

* * *

**A/N:** The obligatory 'Orochimaru, you bastard!' is needed, and I just said it, so there. It was mentioned by Kabuto that sometime behind the scenes Orochimaru discovered Tobi is not Madara. Still an Uchiha, though (from reputation alone, since Kisame clearly saw the Sharingan and I'm assuming Orochimaru did too) and that's what matters.


	7. Snake

**A/N:** Okay, seriously. Words cannot express how in episode 336 Orochimaru emerges from the water. The widened eye and sassy hand on the hip... Hashirama, god of shinobi, please take the wheel.

* * *

Chapter Six – Snake

* * *

The journey to one of Orochimaru's hidden bases was an eventful one. They did not travel quietly, _no_ – rather, Deidara refused to after having discovered the truth that his partner was an Uchiha.

Orochimaru had seen a great of things – magnificent wonders and traumatising horrors that would shock the world at large – in his long-spanning existence but nothing came remotely close to Deidara's wrath. The blonde was a walking explosion next to him, not idly strolling but instead crushing the ground with heavily stomping feet, leaving brittle patches of dirt in his seething wake.

Every now and then, he would curse the world that seemed to abhor him before dramatically throwing his hands in the air, extending his middle fingers in a seemingly universal gesture of hatred. Although there was no one else in the vicinity besides them, trudging along the deserted dirt path, it didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was that he was beyond angry – he was pissed off.

"Son of a bitch," Deidara muttered hotly under his ragged breath, grinding his teeth at everything in general. Said person, the very source of his fury, popped into his head before he could stop it, triggering images of Tobi – a goddamn Uchiha – pandering him by respectfully calling him 'senpai'. Now, he knew the honourific to be anything _but_ respectful, making a mockery of everything he stood for. "Oh, fucking hell!"

On impulse, he angrily plunged his hands into his clay pouches, producing tiny creations within seconds. With an enraged snarl, he swung his hands around like a cracking whip, sending the clay creations flying in the air in every direction. A roar of, "Katsu!" had them exploding in a brilliantly colourful shower of sparks that matched the vibrancy of his profanity.

Next to him, Orochimaru merely watched everything out of the corner of his eye with a carefully controlled straight face. The urge to smile and openly relish in Deidara's inner turmoil was so great that he had to angle his chin, looking to the side purely out of self-preservation. It would not do them any favours if he laughed. Deidara would most likely direct his fury onto him, dooming them both in his rage.

"Don't you dare laugh, Orochimaru!"

The demand compelled Orochimaru to slant his head, his eyes meeting the stormy seas itself. "I'm doing no such thing," he denied smoothly, masking his delight in the other man's despair with politeness. It was somewhat true. Outwardly, he was not laughing, but on the inside... He quickly remedied the lapse of silence by partially speaking the truth. "I'm just surprised that you believed me so quickly."

Deidara huffed at that, twisting his lips into a sneer as he mumbled, as though more to himself than the Sannin, "I always knew there was something off with him.

"You knew?" Orochimaru repeated faintly, disbelievingly, narrowing his eyes slightly as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Pray tell, how?"

"Akatsuki is no joke, yeah," Deidara stated simply, shrugging his slim shoulders. "They're a serious bunch. The fact that Tobi was not serious made him stand out."

Orochimaru recalled the artist's fight with Sasuke. Indeed, Tobi had been ridiculously indulgent in the fight, following Deidara's barking orders with something that bordered on trembling fear. It was abnormal to say the least. Even if assigned pairs got remarkably well with each other, there was always an unspoken and unseen distance separating them from becoming friends, as ridiculously sentimental as the notion sounded.

Finding nothing else to say, he made a drawling, "Mmm," sound as he brought his gaze directly ahead. Sasori had been his partner in Akatsuki. While they had similar interests, desiring immortality above all, finding haunting beauty in things that withstood the test of time, they had never taken their 'relationship' to the next level. Perhaps, that was why Sasori had spied on him – simply because it easy to as they were not friends.

The feeling had been mutual, at any rate.

* * *

"Where are we?"

The question slipped from Deidara's mouth as they came to an abrupt halt before a particularly large boulder as part of a rocky formation. From a glance, it looked rather ordinary, blending in naturally with the earthen tones of the surrounding environment. Upon closer inspection, however, there was clearly something more to the picturesque painting. The absence of finer details marring the boulder like dusty earth and cracks fissured by time was strange.

Perhaps, there was a protective enchantment cast over it. An advanced form of genjutsu?

Orochimaru eyed the boulder for a moment before chuckling.

"This is one of my hidden bases," he told Deidara casually, almost conversationally as though it was a passing matter. He uncrossed his arms and set one palm against the rock, channelling the precise amount of chakra to connect with the earth. Hand seals were not required to mould chakra, much to his pleasure, while he had a natural affinity to earth. "As you can see, it remains virtually untouched. I created countermeasures should anyone fortunately happen to stumble across what is mine."

It was as if the animate boulder sprang to life. Cracks appeared instantly on the rock, indenting the smooth surface in a rectangular shape. The corners of the shape were sharp, mirroring the precision of Orochimaru's chakra control as he kept his hand splayed against the boulder. Within seconds, the slab of rock was moulded into the shape of a door that sank into the ground.

Deidara gave a low whistle. "Akatsuki searched for you for years, you know," he couldn't help but say, revelling in Akatsuki's inadequacy to silence a defector. Now that he knew the truth, he despised them more than ever since his induction had been less than pleasant. "No one has ever defected and lived to tell the tale and," he added dryly with a crooked grin, "you knew too much, yeah."

Orochimaru echoed the sentiment when he murmured, "A feat that will soon apply to you by the time we're done," with a smile.

The smile was so full of arrogance, certainty and smugness that Deidara pointedly rolled his eyes. Sure, the Sannin was classy as hell, but he wasn't about to openly praise Orochimaru. What they were doing now was purely circumstantial because of their bond. He made a pointed display of this when he scoffed, shoving past the other man to enter the hideout first.

Whatever preconceptions he had in his mind dissipated the moment he set foot inside. Eerie darkness didn't greet him as he thought it would given Orochimaru's dark aura of power. Instead, Deidara found himself in a cavern full of light, foliage and the artistic beauty of nature.

It was like a painting.

Sunlight poured through the jagged cracks of the rocky ceiling, casting warmth with everything its sunny rays touched. Grass cushioned the ground underneath his feet that moved unsteadily as he shuffled forward in awe. It carried the scent of musty earth tinged with sweet honey, a combination he had never come to appreciate until now as it engulfed his senses.

To the side, a cluster of potted plants were bunched on wooden shelves, each varying in colour and size but no less lovely. Some of the plants weren't even encased in pots, growing as one with the grass, adding vibrancy with splashes of colour in the sea of green.

The longer Deidara stood transfixed, the more he began to understand that it wasn't just the smell or the beauty of nature. There was something about the cavern – that a secluded place so peaceful and sheltered was untouched by time. He wasn't a man who believed in eternal beauty but this was an exception – a big fucking gorgeous one at that, more-so considering the strange man who had fostered it. Whatever the hell he was, Orochimaru clearly appreciated nature.

Speaking of which, Orochimaru was examining a steel rack of what appeared to be holding test tubes. He stood at the back of the cavern in an area that seemed out of place. A steel bench stretched across the wall littered with an array of instruments ranging from stacked books to jars – even one containing what appeared to be white scaly skin, no doubt from a rare snake.

Deidara picked the jar up, examining it closely with narrowed eyes. It was rather weird since the skin was shed, merely remnants of an animal, but riveting at the same time, drawing his attention with its white quality since his clay creations were always of the similar colour. He stared at it for a little longer before placing it on the bench, shifting his gaze to Orochimaru.

Slender fingers trailed over neatly labelled vials seemingly in consideration before tapping one in particular. The thin vial, stoppered with a small cork, contained translucent liquid that remained stagnant even when plucked from the rack.

"What is that? Some sort of drug?" Deidara questioned curiously, inclining his head towards the vial. Its thick consistency was strange as it deceptively retained the clarity of water.

Orochimaru held the vial up to the light as he gave a concise explanation. "It's a paralytic poison I formulated to suppress Hashirama's bloodline limit – in other words, to incapacitate Zetsu."

"Hashirama?" Deidara echoed faintly in confusion, frowning slightly. The name was fuzzy in his mind.

For a moment, Orochimaru looked annoyed, regarding the other man with a frown. It took him a few seconds to remember that Deidara had not originated from Konoha, nor did he seem like the type to love history. There was only art in those lovely blue eyes. The thought was so dry in amusement yet undeniably true that it caused his lip to curl, matching his light tone when he launched into a short history lesson.

"Hashirama Senju, otherwise known as the Shodaime and god of shinobi, was the only person to ever use _Mokuton. _To date, no one in the Senju Clan has harnessed the ability to control earth and water in harmony to create and manipulate wood. I did manage to encode his genetics onto another but that's a different story."

"What the–" Deidara broke off, finding it difficult to comprehend the implications of those words. What was more shocking was that Orochimaru seemed to consider the matter trivial, only adding it in passing. His incredulity him escaped him as a disbelieving question. "You played with genetics out of curiosity and were successful?!"

This time, the annoyance etched on Orochimaru's face was real, twisting his features into a scowl. "Do not underestimate my greatness," was his scathing answer, along with an imperious gesture to Deidara in general. "All you need to do is take a good look at yourself to understand that."

The hand gesture referred to the glaringly obvious fact that somehow Orochimaru had saved his life. In response, Deidara merely rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest indignantly. He refused to say the words that would only stroke Orochimaru's massive ego. There was no in hell he would thank Orochimaru, arrogant bastard he was, simply because he knew it would come back to bite him in the ass.

Orochimaru would likely grin permanently at his expense, holding it over his head like some sort of _thing_. The Sannin would then likely make annoying allusions to the demeaning truth, and what would suck was that he couldn't refute it simply because it was true.

All over again, Deidara was pissed off. Besides Sasuke and perhaps Itachi, he had never hated anyone more than he did now, glaring at the man in question who was _oh-so_ patient in waiting for the words he was unable to give. Even if he was compelled to say it, somehow wanting to, his pride would not allow it.

It was as simple as that.

Orochimaru scoffed when Deidara disregarded him completely, making beeline for the exit. He was about to throw out a sarcastic comment when a question nagged him, escaping him as a serious query. "What exactly did Akatsuki say in slander about me?"

"Only that you got your ass handed to you by Itachi."

The tables were sourly turned.

It was Orochimaru's turn to withdraw as he was embarrassingly reminded of his humiliation years ago. There was absolutely nothing he could say to those unfortunately truthful words. While he had approached Itachi to take over his body, lacking the intent to kill, he had still lost. Yes, he had moved to make the required hand seal to break the genjutsu but even then he had been too slow – too enraptured in the moment as he stared into the Sharingan.

The irony that they had been bested by the same people was striking. He had witnessed everything from inside Sasuke, listening to Deidara curse Itachi for being the cool, stoic man he was. That same coolness had chilled him years ago on Amegakure's stones steps. In addition, Sasuke had bested them as well – Itachi's flesh and blood. The reasons surrounding their separate battles were different but no less shameful.

Sneering at the shame, Orochimaru moved to follow Deidara, clutching the vial tighter than necessary.

"So, why are you making your move against Akatsuki now?" Deidara ventured once they had exited the hideout, waiting for Orochimaru to seal it behind them. The tension between them ebbed away, almost as if it had never existed in light of his curiosity. "What stopped you from doing it years ago? Akatsuki has sealed most of the tailed beasts, yeah."

"As much as I desire to see Akatsuki fall, I have no intention of getting myself killed in the process," was Orochimaru's prompt response, since it was true. "I know how Akatsuki works, Deidara-kun." He sent a significant glance over his shoulder as he went about manipulating the surrounding earth to seal his hideout. "They would have sent you and Sasori to kill me since he was familiar with my abilities and I would have fallen."

The look on Deidara's face was priceless. A picture was said to be worth a thousand words and as he stared at Deidara, seeing surprise so clearly like a cloudless sky, such a thing had never been more apparent.

It was almost artistic in that way.

Orochimaru laughed quietly, smirking just a bit. "Why the look of surprise, Deidara-kun?" he enquired coolly with another low, humming laugh. "I give credit where it's due. Your C4 was beautiful."

Deidara, who had been momentarily stunned by the praise that sounded so sincere, bit out defensively, "I thought you said my art was ridiculous."

"The complex you have with it is," Orochimaru rectified smoothly, flicking his hair over his shoulder in a habitual gesture. "Your art on its own is actually quite lovely. Besides, my jutsu was sealed and for the past three years I was preoccupied."

"Oh, I forgot." Deidara was pleased to find something to taunt the other man with. Remaining silent would mean that he wanted to hear Orochimaru's praise, that he _actually_ cared about what the man said, holding him in high regard when such was not the case – or, at least, that's what he told himself. His voice dripping with sarcasm, he tauntingly remarked, "You were too busy making love with Sasuke."

Oh, here we go again, Orochimaru thought sourly. It was as if his words of praise fell on deaf ears for Deidara to goad him by bringing up _that_ topic. The fact that Deidara could not be bought with sweet, honeyed words was interesting but ultimately annoying. He was different to what Orochimaru was used to playing with such that he didn't like it – being outplayed in the game of control.

Everyone was for sale. Deidara's price remained to be seen.

"You would do well to stop bringing that up," Orochimaru snapped, venom coating his tone as well as his entire face that darkened. "We never had any intimate relations – our business was strictly professional. Sasuke-kun wanted power and in turn, I wanted his body."

It was as if Orochimaru had grew eight heads. The look Deidara sent him was rife with disbelief, suggesting that even if Orochimaru suddenly grew eight heads, he wouldn't bat an eyelash – so great was his shock. "Have you ever hopped down from your almighty pedestal and listened to yourself, Orochimaru?" he threw out incredulously, gesticulating wildly as his emotions took over. "You're an adult raving about wanting a bastard's young body."

"Not for sexual intercourse," Orochimaru refuted stonily, masking his growing anger with distant coldness. To succumb to his malicious instincts would result in violence, and as much as he wanted to wrap his hands around Deidara's neck and give a very good _squeeze_, self-preservation came first. It had and always would. Still, he wasn't about to let Deidara mock him when, all throughout life, that had been _his_ job, doing so to others in wicked delight.

With a sigh, he rubbed his temples, nursing the first inklings of a disastrous headache wrought by Deidara's spite. "Must you take everything at face value?" Orochimaru sighed once more, bowing his head as did so, sending dark locks swaying across his chest. "You're more foolish than I thought."

Deidara was a very hands on person. In spite of Orochimaru anticipating him moving, the actuality of Deidara scratching him with his kitten claws was no less irritating.

"Get real, yeah," Deidara growled, jabbing a furious finger into Orochimaru's chest. He ignored the dark glare that threatened to burn him alive with looks alone as he proceeded to drive his finger painfully into his source of anger. If anything, it seemed to ignite his own fire within, manifesting outwardly as equally heated words. "As a matter of fact I do, so you had better get used to it."

When Orochimaru merely intensified his glare, too proud to rise to the intentional bait or otherwise not trusting himself to do so, Deidara clicked his tongue in annoyance. He drew back but only physically, dishing out a biting, "For such a great worldly man, you're such a fucking prude. Sexual intercourse? How old are you?"

The last thing Orochimaru wanted to discuss with Deidara was intimacy – not when he always brought Sasuke into the picture. He ignored the mocking question and instead crossed his arms defensively over his chest, pointedly avoiding the stormy seas and the crashing waves of anger permeating thickly throughout the atmosphere. Although it was a nice day, the sun shining brightly over them, it might as well have raining with cracking thunder to match their sour moods.

His mood didn't improve when they reached a clearing in the nearby forest. Orochimaru commanded one of his snakes to slither up his throat, producing the object that had warranted the earlier brutal beating.

"Here, your ring."

Deidara was morbidly fascinated by the other man doing coughing up a snake that he barely reacted. Only at the last possible second did he catch his ring, immediately scowling at the unnecessary force behind it. "That's disgusting, yeah," he remarked with a shiver, feeling his insides squirm. Talk about weird. "You kept it inside you?"

Orochimaru allowed the insult to sail by. The only indication he actually heard it was the rustling sound of his fingers digging into his clothing as he carefully revealed his plan.

"Indeed. Now, listen closely. Zetsu is made from Hashirama's cells. The moment I joined Akatsuki years ago, I became aware of this because I've researched Hashirama's cells extensively – including the ability to sense them. As he functions as Akatsuki's spy, he's probably going to question you about what happened. Indulge him – play him for a fool. He'll likely refer to Tobi's story to which you should fabricate it."

What the fuck.

In truth, what Deidara actually said was a rather complimentary, "Are you always this sharp?" before he could stop himself, wholeheartedly regretting it. What Orochimaru said next rubbed him in the wrong way, causing his scowl to darken.

"What can I say, Deidara-kun? I know all there is to know." Orochimaru smirked before outlining the rest of his plan. "Anyway, once you have him eating out of your palm," Deidara's nostrils flared at the pun of his hand mouths, "you need to glean information about what else is going on in the shinobi world. We're both out of the loop. It's imperative you find out exactly how much so before Akatsuki loses another member."

The plan was okay.

If Deidara was willing to be honest – which he refused to be, not when Orochimaru would cackle maniacally in delight – he loved the plan, simply because it was straightforward yet gave him room to breathe. He hated taking orders from others, following them like lapdogs, and Orochimaru was no exception who not only seemed to know this but respect it. Exactly what he would say to Zetsu was purely up to him, so long as he gleaned some information before blowing up Akatsuki's spy.

The fact that Orochimaru was helping him exact revenge was strange but he wasn't about to protest. Perhaps, the Sannin had beef with Akatsuki as well. It was probably true, all things considered.

Deidara considered the plan for a little while longer before asking, "How am I supposed to signal you?"

"You don't. I will know when to strike."

Well, that was that, Deidara mused dryly as he lifted the ring to his right index finger. Before he could slip the ring on, a hand unexpectedly shot out, slithering around his wrist to coil around him tightly.

"Do not forget, Deidara-kun." Orochimaru's voice was quiet in sound but loud in authority. "If you are planning to betray me, know that if I go down, I'm taking you with me. Our fates are cruelly entwined – we're somehow connected. I will be waiting." White fingers loosened fractionally, however the threat – the promise of spiralling down to hell together – was unmistakeable, reflected in gold eyes that had never appeared more snakelike up until now. "I will be watching."


End file.
